Lost & Found
by qwertyuiopkjhgfdssazxcvbnm
Summary: Natasha Romanoff wants nothing more than to have her Art Center become a beacon of hope for people with a passion for the fine arts around the world. When sent on an errand by her friend, Pepper Potts, she finds more than what she hoped to find. Can she help this man out of time in his struggle from escaping the ghosts of his past and adjusting to this modern era? Romanogers. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_"Light reflects from your shadow, it is more than I thought could exist." - Angels_

 **Lost & Found**

…

"Seriously, Natasha, when are you going to start living?" Pepper asked me, momentarily flicking her gaze over to a gorgeous white dress at the corner of the clothing department. "Just accept Clint's proposal. He's the most suitable man; if not, you could pursue Doctor Banner. Didn't you have a crush on him that one time?"

I scoffed, trying to look for a dress as well as keep a hard glare on the strawberry-haired woman in front of me. She merely rolled her eyes. "Love is for children, Mrs. Stark," I replied, adding a slight tease towards the end of my statement. "Besides, Clint is like a brother to me. He just asked me on a date one time, and that was before he met Laura. Banner's another case, but I wouldn't go for him. Not now, since he's got his heart set on Betty."

I followed as Pepper headed over to the white dress she eyed earlier. "Oh, I know you can't pursue them. But come on, Romanoff. Tony and I are just engaged. Who knows when we'll plan the wedding? Mrs. Stark isn't me just yet." She picked the dress of the rack. "What do you think?"

"It's cute." I frowned. "A bit too flashy for a gala, though. Maybe something a bit more formal? It's Stark's Foundation Gala after all."

"Hmm," Pepper hummed. "I think it's alright. Tony's planning to announce that the company's anniversary gala will also be his parents' remembrance ball, or something of the sort. He wouldn't tell me all the details. Quote unquote, he told me, 'It's supposed to be a night of fun, Pep, so make sure you're dressed fun.'"

I snickered at the way Pepper added exaggerated gestures to her fiancé's words. "Then let's head over to the fitting room, Pep, and get out of here."

"Okay." Pepper tucked the dress beneath her left arm. "But you're not getting off the hook, Nat. You have to pick a dress. I'm not letting you leave the mall until you do. Tony and I agreed that I'm going to have to make sure you don't show up wearing jeans and a blouse this time."

I rolled my eyes and smirked. "Gave Shell-Head the shock of a lifetime last year, didn't I?"

Pepper smiled. "Yeah. So this time: pick a dress Romanoff."

I quickly grabbed the nearest one. "Done."

"Why must you antagonize me so?"

"It's not you, Pepper. It's the mall."

Pepper sighed, and looked around for a moment. She then smiled and yanked the dress I randomly grabbed out of my hands. I let out a short cry of, "Hey!" as she returned it to the rack and started dragging me to wherever it was she was heading.

She took a black dress from its rack. The top had loose sleeves, a pretty neckline and was plain black. However, its skirt flowed elegantly down, with glimmering sequins on it. "I think this one would be perfect for you, Nat."

I studied the dress. "It's pretty, I guess."

Pepper gave me an incredulous look. "'It's pretty, I guess'? _Pretty_? Is that the best word you could use?"

I shrugged.

Pepper let out a sigh. "Just put it on, will you? We'll see if it's just pretty later on."

We headed over to the fitting room. Pepper put on her dress first, and we both approved of it. It was flashy, as I'd previously described it, but on Pepper it complemented her beautifully. She twirled around in it, laughing softly, and smiling. Pepper definitely looked "fun" in the dress. All she needed now was a hairstyle to go along with it, and heels as well. I sighed, realizing that we weren't going to be leaving the mall as soon as I'd hoped.

As she changed out of the dress, I went inside another stall and put the dress she'd chosen for me on. I looked at myself, and felt like the player I used to be back in High School. I used to be called 'Black Widow', having dated countless men in my teen years, a feat I currently wasn't very proud of. My days of dating one guy after another were over, but that didn't mean I lost my feminine charm.

I was now the head and the instructor of the advanced ballet class of one of the city's best art centers, The Red Room, thanks to my friendship with Pepper who helped me get started (she had great advice; it wasn't exactly surprising, though, since she technically managed Stark Industries) and my years of preparing to be a business woman back in college. I found it a great way to escape my previous reputation as a player.

I smiled at my reflection, the woman in the mirror smiling back.

A soft knock at the door of the stall brought me out of my thoughts. "Nat, you done in there? Let me see the dress!"

"Yeah, yeah, Miss Bossy-Pants," I replied, unlocking the door and showing myself to Pepper. "You don't need too get all business mode on me." She ignored my statement and looked at me up and down, giving me a once-over, before smiling with pride.

"I told you that dress would be perfect," she said. "Now change out. We're buying it and heading over to the shoes department. Afterwards, we're going to my place and getting you on a dating site."

I glared at her. "Don't you dare."

Pepper laughed. "Just kidding. You seriously need a love life though."

I groaned and slammed the stall door in her face. "For the record, I did have a love life! I used to be Black Widow! Freakin' Black Widow, Potts! I was the best at getting a guy."

"Still a virgin, though," Pepper's sing song voice drifted in through the door as I slipped out of the dress.

"I was still amazing!"

Pepper only laughed.

…

 **Author's Note : Hello! I see you've clicked on my story. ;)**

 **Well, I'm just here to give you a few pointers.**

 **This is a Romanogers fic, set in an Alternate Universe. No S.H.I.E.L.D stuff here, just a normal world. Kind of. There's going to be a Steve preserved in ice here, which will be explained later. This is going to be a short fic, maybe. *shrug***

 **And some of you might wonder about the whole Natasha/Art Center/The Red Room thing. While I was writing up the draft for this story, I wanted Natasha to have her own business to run. I remembered about the whole ballet thing in the Red Room, and figured she'd have a passion for dancing if she were placed in a modern setting. So, I wrote her as a ballet instructor at first. Then I thought that Natasha wouldn't be for a small job like that, so I dived deeper into the whole "love for ballet" thing and came up with this conclusion: Natasha has a deep appreciation for art. I mean, if you think about it, she seems like the kind of person who loves art. Or maybe it's just me. Anyway, I gave her an art center, and I named it Red Room because she says, quote unquote, "In the Red Room, where I was trained… where I was _raised_ …" And I thought that the Red Room will always be a part of Nat's life. Only, in this AU, it's a more positive part of her life.**

 **Hehe.**

 **Till the next chappie!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note** **: From here on out, we will continue on through Natasha's story using the third-person point of view. :)**

 **Thank you for the all the follows, favorites and reviews! I'm glad you liked the first chapter! Enjoy! x**

...

Natasha kept her gaze on the two people before her as they practiced the dance for the first ever world-wide premiere of her Art Center. Now, the whole world was going to see exactly what she had created, not just the people living in New York City.

The song playing for the dance ended, and Harold let Astrid down from the last position after a few moments of holding it.

Natasha smiled a litte and walked over to the two panting students, both of whom were the best in her class. "Good job, guys. Though, Astrid? Practice a little bit more on the coreography towards the ending. You get lost for a moment and that shouldn't happen. Harold, work more on the middle. We need that spin, and if you're going to buckle under Astrid's weight it'll go wrong. I need you to trust youself, and carry her like she's a bird you're letting go and letting fly. Understand? Let's try that again, but from the second sequence this time, okay?"

Both students nodded, and Natasha walked back her laptop, which was connected to a stereo. She played the music starting from somewhere in the middle and Harold and Astrid began dancing again. Natasha smiled at the passion they held while dancing, silently hoping she could look at someone with the same emotion one day. Not that she'd tell anyone.

A few minutes into the dance, there was a knock on the door and Natasha sighed bitterly. She had enjoyed watching her students dance. It made her proud of what she created. She stopped the music, Harold and Astrid dropped their positions, and Natasha headed over to the door of the studio. When she opened it, she saw her secretary, Darcy Lewis, blushing a bit, which was expected from the girl whenever she disturbed one of Natasha's classes. "Yes?"

"Sorry to disturb you, ma'am," Darcy said, "but Ms. Potts just called and asked you to do an errand for her. She specifically told me that I should make sure you get your ass out of the studio, do what she asked, and head over to Stark Tower and she'll help you get ready for the gala."

"Anything else, Darcy?"

"Nah," the girl said, flashing her boss a smile, "but I _could_ use some free time."

"No."

"Dang it." Natasha laughed and Darcy left.

"Ms. Romanoff?" Astrid asked when Natasha turned around. "Will we still continue practice?"

"Well, I've got to go, but you two were supposed to have at least half an hour more..." Natasha trailed off, thinking. "I'll leave, but you guys can't until the supposed time. In the meantime, practice on that spin. I want Harold to get used to your weight, Astrid, considering this partnership between the two of you is new."

Both nodded. "We'll see you again tomorrow, then, Ms. Romanoff?"

Natasha turned. "Yeah, of course."

...

Natasha gritted her teeth. Darcy had written down an address as Pepper had told her to go to and meet some guy, but Natasha had never heard of it, so she had to call Pepper to give her directions. So far, her car and two others were the only ones in the narrow road, and it gave her an uneasy feeling.

"When you see Mary's Botique, turn right. You'll find the building at the end of the street. Thanks, sweetie. Make sure you get the package, 'kay? I've got to end this call now, Tony needs my help."

"Wait, Pep!"

The other woman already hung up. Natasha sighed and viewed her surroundings, driving slowly. When she finally found the botique, she sighed with relief and turned right immediately. A dead end came soon enough and Natasha found herself staring at an old worn down building. The walls were cracked, the windows were boarded, and there were parts of the building which were rotting. Natasha shuddered and mumbled to herself. "Pepper, you owe me big time."

Natasha got out of her car and took hesitant steps towards the front door of the building. She knocked. There was no answer. She knocked again, and was met with the same outcome. She sighed and reached for the door knob. She could only hope that the man Pepper told her to meet would be in there with the package she needed.

Surprisingly, the door was unlocked and Natasha pushed it open, the creaking of the door making her ears hurt. It was dark ahead, the only light coming through the doorway she currently stood in. She looked to the sides for a light switch and found one. Thankfully, a small flood of light entered the room.

She was shocked to see multiple newspaper clippings littering the floor, along with what she was disgusted to presume as blood stains. She clenched and unclenched her fists, calling out, "Hello? Anyone here?"

No answer.

Natasha couldn't say she wasn't surprised.

She took a few steps forward, noticing a small symbol behind the door when she looked back. It looked like an evil, red octupus, but it was faded. It looked pretty familiar though. She just couldn't tell where she'd seen it before. She continued on, confused and a little bit scared. _What had she walked into?_

She found a stairwell, but didn't dare to climb up. She figured the stairs would break under her weight. But she did notice something else. A trapdoor, probably leading to a basement.

Her mind screamed at her to just leave the building. This was obviously going to be the beginning of a horror movie - all the signs were there. But her instincts told her to go for it. Not for Pepper, not for Tony, just to fulfill her own curiosity. So, as much as she didn't want to end up as a victim of some homicidal maniac, she pulled open the trapdoor, and headed down the staircase which was revealed.

Her skin prickled with goosebumps the whole way. _Natasha Romanoff doesn't get scared._ She told herself. _Natasha Romanoff doesn't get scared._ She continued to chant the mantra in her head.

When she reached the bottom, she almost expected someone to jump at her and stick a knife her eye. She stood still for a few moments, then let out a soft sigh. She felt around at the walls beside her, hoping there was a light switch. She accidentally touched something and jumped when she heard a loud _click_ coming from the side.

Something lit up, and she saw a man.

Well, really, he seemed to be trapped inside some sort of chamber. A soft, orange light shined through the small glass window (which only revealed his shoulders and up) in the metal door which seperated him from her. He was sleeping. _Or dead,_ Natasha told herself. She shuddered.

She made up her mind that she would never return to the place _again_ , and quickly turned back to the staircase. She took quick steps, and was halfway up when she heard a loud moan. She stopped running, turned, and looked back at the trapdoor. Another moan, a soft cry for help. Her heart clenched. _He needed her help._

She went back down, and found him trying to pry the door to the chamber open. She saw his tired, confused face as he tried to force himself out the small room he was trapped in. He was weak. Very weak, if he couldn't even open a door.

Throwing caution to the wind, she raced forward and pried the door open. He looked at her for a moment, as if he'd just noticed her in that moment, his eyes cast under dark shadows in contrast to the light behind him. He let out a soft cry, and fell.

Straight into her arms.

She struggled under his weight, so she let him down onto the floor. He looked up at her, but she couldn't tell if he was smiling or not. If he even _was_ smiling. She exhaled. "Are you okay?"

He let out a soft gasp. "Tired..." he mumbled, struggling to get up.

"Okay," she said. "Okay," she repeated. She stared at him, not knowing what to do. What the hell was she supposed to do, anyway? She let out a sigh. "Do you have a home?"

She almost slapped herself senseless when she realized what she'd asked. He obviously probably didn't have one. He was stuck inside that _thing_ , for crying out loud.

He didn't reply. She didn't expect him to.

"Can you walk?" she asked instead, and she felt him struggle to get up. "It's okay. Don't strain yourself. Let me help you."

She placed one of his arms around her shoulders, and clutching his waist they both stood. He stumbled a little. "Don't worry, big guy. I got you."

What she said next, she would spend a lot of time thinking about. Perhaps it was just the spur of the moment? Or a way to let him trust her to carry him? Maybe she just tried to comfort him...? Either way, she still said it. "I'm going to take you home."

His arm gripped her shoulder tight, his head resting in the crook of her neck. A part of her thought it as a response to what she'd said. She couldn't tell if it were a positive or a negative answer though. She pushed those thoughts aside and focused on getting him into her car. It felt like eternity, bringing him up the stairs. But she didn't care. She was going to help him. A part of her was glad she went down the trapdoor. What if she never found him? What if she saved him in the nick of time? How could someone survive down there anyway?

When she finally got him out of the building and into the front seat of her car, he had spoken. A few words, really, but it made her smile softly at him. "Please don't take me anywhere but home...please," he'd said, voice weak. She could only stare at him confusedly. "Thank you."

"No problem," she replied, dismissing his earlier statement as a result of getting out of that chamber.

The thought of Stark's Gala crossed her mind, and for a moment she stiffened. Then she looked at the man beside her. He was currently leaning against the window, his features soft, his steady breaths the only thing she could hear for a while. And she figured Stark could wait. She had something - or, rather, some _one_ \- more important to take care of.

The rest of the drive back to her apartment was spent in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note** **: I'm really glad you guys are enjoying the ride so far! Things are going to get weird for a while, especially the ones that are Steve-centered. It will all be explained, soon. Also, don't believe that this is only going to be romance... mwahahahaha. This actually has a plot aside from being a sweet, probably tooth-aching little story. ;) *laughs evilly* Cookies for everyone, though! :) x**

...

When Natasha pulled up at her apartment building, the man next to her was deep in slumber, which surprised her because it seemed like he'd been sleeping for a long time in that chamber.

Her first few attempts at waking him didn't work, and she grew frustrated. She'd checked the time a lot during the drive and half an hour had gone by since the supposed time she was supposed to meet Pepper. Not only that, but she hadn't gotten the package she was sent to get for her. She banged her head against the steering wheel, cursing, and somehow she managed to get an idea.

She got out of her car quickly, and walked over to the other side. She opened the car door the man was still leaning on, and caught him as he fell out. The shock of it all was enough to wake him, and she smirked, despite the huge amount of weight she was struggling to carry. He quickly stood, and smiled at her shyly. She thought it slightly adorable.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said. He looked around, and she tilted her head in a confused manner when his eyes widened and his breathing quickened.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

He clutched his head in his hands, and looked at her. "Please, tell me, is it still 1945? At least tell me it's 1975..."

Natasha couldn't believe it. When she'd heard him say '1945', the thought that he'd been stuck in that chamber for so long crossed her mind and she felt a pang of pity for the guy.

"Sorry," she said slowly, hoping she wouldn't startle him, "but it's 2015 now. I think you've been stuck in that chamber for at least sixty or so years."

He stared at her, and looked around him. "God," he breathed out, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and looking at her pleadingly. "Can I... lie down for a while?"

She nodded, and led him into her apartment building. They climbed up the stairs (her constantly looking back to see his face devoid of expression) and finally reached her floor. She quickly unlocked her door and led him to her bed, letting him sit there for a moment, just letting him stare into space.

After a few moments of just watching him, she couldn't bear to look at him in that state, so she broke the silence by saying, "Are you hungry? I could cook something for you."

He looked up at her. "2015. The war's over, right?"

She stared at him for a while. "Which war?"

"The one against the Nazis."

"Yes."

He merely nodded. After a while, he asked, "What did we lose?"

She thought for a few moments. "Well, they did say they lost Captain America to a blockade or something. Sorry, I kind of grew up in Russia. I don't know a lot about American history. I could lend you a history book if you want. I think I've got one or something."

He stared at her with emotion then. She couldn't tell if it were sadness or disappointment. She figured it'd be the former, because what would he be disappointed about? "I don't want to read it. I'm sorry, ma'am, but do you know somewhere I could go and rest even for just a while? Thank you for your hospitality, but I don't want to be a burden."

He stood, and headed over to her door in a quick stride. He looked back at her expectantly. "Well? Do you know a place? If not, I could just go and look for one myself."

She couldn't speak. She'd expect him to take the whole you've-been-stuck-in-a-chamber-for-years thing badly. She thought he'd scream, or shout, or accuse her of lying. Instead, he stood there by her doorway, asking if she knew a place he could stay for the time being. She had no words.

He sighed, smiled at her, and said, "Nevermind. I'll look for a place myself. Thank you for your help, ma'am."

He opened her door, and in the few moments it took for him to walk out, she figured she couldn't let him go like that. Not until he was ready to face the world. Not until she knew he was going to be okay by himself. He didn't even have any money with him, he wouldn't find a place to stay anyway. She couldn't let him go _alone_. Not without a fight.

Because a part of her couldn't stand the thought of him being lost. She saved him from that place. Now, she has to finish the job. "Wait!"

He stopped and looked at her, shocked.

"I-I," she stuttered. "I can't. I... I _won't_ let you go. Stay. You have no money, no clothes - nothing, if I'm to be honest. I'll help you. I promise. Just... please stay."

God, she sounded _pathetic_. She just wanted to claw at herself, and hurt herself severely for sounding like that.

He smiled warmly at her anyway, and said, "You're too kind to me, ma'am."

"Don't," she found herself saying. "Just... I could help you get a job or something. I could help you... with your," she paused for a moment, thinking, " _situation_. Please. Just let me."

Slowly, he closed the door, nodded and walked up to her. He held out a hand. "I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers."

She looked at him, mouth agape. He shrugged, and said, "I figured we'd have to know each other's names if you're asking me to stay here. Thank you, again. I know I already said it, but you really _have_ been so kind to me."

She took his hand and shook. "Uhm, okay... I'm Natasha. Natasha Romanoff."

"Pleasure to meet you." He looked around for a moment, and his stomach grumbled. Natasha held back a laugh. His face flushed red. "Now, if you don't mind, can I make some pancakes for myself? I'm hungry."

She gave him a weird look. "Sure. The kitchen's over there. Knock yourself out."

He headed over in the direction she'd pointed and entered her kitchen. Natasha grabbed her purse which she left on her coffee table. She took her phone out and sighed when she saw over a dozen of texts and missed calls from both Pepper and Tony. _She was dead. So, very, very dead._

"Hey, Natasha?" Steve's voice brought her out of her thoughts. "I just used the last of your sugar. I promise I'll try to buy some tomorrow... if you could tell me where to go, of course."

She headed over to the kitchen and watched as Steve made his pancake batter. And he was making lots of it. The mixing bowl was so full, he was stirring the contents slowly, making sure nothing spilled out onto the kitchen counter. He was definitely hungry. However, what she couldn't comprehend was the fact that though the guy just woke up from a really long sleep, he acted as if he'd been living in this century all his life. Not only that, but he acted like they'd been living together for years. She couldn't understand this guy.

Steve looked at her, and upon seeing her deep in thought and staring at him, he asked, "What's going on?"

And she spilled. She told him what she'd been thinking. Instead of frowning, like she thought he'd do, he laughed.

He _laughed_.

She found herself with her mouth agape, and her eyes wide. She'd only known this guy for less than twenty-four hours and he was already surprising her in so many ways. "What are you laughing about?"

He gave her a huge smile. "I fought in a war, Natasha." His eyes then softened. "And I knew I was in that chamber. I didn't know for how long, though. But, I think I can survive this. With your help. Besides..." He paused for a moment. "I owe you."

She was impressed by his answer. She took the first part of it though, and stored it inside her brain for later. _I fought in a war, Natasha_. Then she realized he'd also said he _knew_ he was in that thing... but how? She shrugged it off. He must've been awake when the people who put him inside... well, put him inside.

"Okay," she said. Her mind went back to what she had come to tell him at first. "Listen, you'll be the only one here for a while. I was supposed to attend a... meeting tonight. I'm late for it." She paused as if thinking. "I'm _very_ late for it."

He blushed and nodded."I'm sorry. It's alright. Go. I won't touch anything... or burn anything..." He looked back at his pancake batter with an intense gaze, as if he was commanding the batter not to blow up in his face when he poured it into the pan. Natasha hoped she was wrong it her train of thought. SHe prayed he knew what he was doing. "Well, I believe you must head out now, ma'am."

She smiled at him, grabbed her purse, and headed the door. Before closing it behind her however, she shouted, "When I get back this place better not have caught fire! Got it?" His only response was to laugh nervously at the threatening tone in her voice.

Once she was out of the building she slid into her car, driving almost above the speed limit to Stark Tower.

...

"SERIOIUSLY, NAT, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" Pepper yelled through the door as Natasha slipped on the black dress the other girl had kept for her. "I got so worried, you know? I sent someone to look for you and someone else to get the package. Your car wasn't at your apartment, and you weren't at the venue and I was so _afraid_ and _worried_ and I prayed you were okay! Natasha!"

Natasha sighed and stepped out of the room to meet a very stressed-looking Pepper.

"Look, Pep, I'm really sorry, okay? I didn't mean to be late. I followed your instructions, and waited at the building but no one came."

Pepper looked at her before ranting about how she couldn't have gone to the wrong building. Natasha glared at her friend. Pepper stood thinking for a while after noticing Natasha's look before realization dawned on her face. "Wait. Did you turn right before or after Mary's Botique?"

Natasha thought for a moment. "Before, why?"

Pepper snapped her fingers. "That's it! You were supposed to turn right _after_ Mary's Botique."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Wow. Wish you could've told me that before I found a-" Natasha paused, thinking over her next words, "that... no one was there."

Pepper sighed. "Just answer your phone immediately next time, okay?"

Natasha nodded. "Let's go back to the party before shell-head realizes you've been gone for long."

At that, Pepper laughed, all anger and worry about her friend gone. For the moment.

...

"So, where've you been, Red?" Tony asked her when he finished mingling with the guests and sat at their table for dinner, placing a small peck on Pepper's lips while doing so.

"She got lost," Pepper filled in after taking a small sip from her cup of wine.

Natasha groaned, and pointed a knife at Pepper. "I wouldn't have gotten lost if it weren't for your stupid directions."

"Hey!"

Tony laughed. "She's pointing a knife at you, Pep! I wouldn't get on her bad side if I were you..." Pepper swatted his arm. Natasha let the couple bicker for a moment before cutting in.

"Tony?"

He tore his gaze on Pepper and focused it on the red-head. "Yeah?"

She gave him a serious look. His mood turned just as serious. "Can you have somebody search about a guy who fought in a war? A Steve Rogers, if I'm to be exact."

"Steve Rogers?" Tony smirked. "No need, Red. Don't you know? He's the great Captain America. The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan. The War Hero. The Super Soldier," Tony listed off. "K.I.A they said. He crashed his plane to save New York from a bombing. Never found the body, though. Too bad."

Pepper added, "He died with a real good bang though."

"He's _the_ Captain America?" Natasha asked, surprised.

"Well, yeah."

"Tell me about him."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note** **: I guess y'all are scratching your heads due to Steve's weird behavior. That's okay. It means you guys are interested. Enjoy! ;) x**

...

When Natasha arrived home, still wearing her dress (Pepper told her to keep it at her place), she found Steve lying on the couch. He was fast asleep, and when she headed over to the kitchen she found a plate on the dining table with at least two pancakes on it. She then noticed that the mixing bowl and the measuring cups and teaspoons were all washed and piled up neatly on the kitchen counter.

The pancakes looked delicious, and they were, only they were cold. She didn't mind. She also had a feeling that this was going to be the first of many kind gestures, since he held her in a high regard ( _you saved me and all that_ ).

After washing up and changing into comfortable clothes, she climbed into bed, but not before taking one last look at the man.

For a while, she couldn't sleep, thoughts of that man sleeping on her couch invading her mind. He'd looked so troubled, like he was having nightmares. It was quite hard to notice, but she saw it anyway. She knew what it was like to have nightmares. Eventually, she got out of bed, and took a spare blanket from her closet. She headed over to him, and carefully draped the blanket on him. He immediately curled up underneath, and she frowned. He must've been cold. Usually, she woke up from a bad dream sweating. He was only shivering. She made the right choice in keeping him warm, but she still couldn't accept that he was having terrible dreams...

Proud of herself, either way, she went back to bed.

When she woke up early the next morning, she opened her bedroom door slowly, peeking out to see if Steve was still asleep so she'd know if she had to walk out quietly. Surprised, she pulled the door all the way open and smiled widely when she noticed that Steve was gone and the blanket was folded neatly on the couch. She glanced to the side and saw him sitting at the dining table, doodling on a piece of paper.

She walked over. "Good morning."

He looked up at her and smiled. She sat next to him. "Good morning, Natasha," he greeted as well. "Thanks for the blanket. I hope you didn't mind." She shook her head. "Anyway, I also hope you don't mind me taking a piece of paper and pen from your coffee table. I wanted to, um, draw. You work at an art center?"

She stared at him. He smiled at her sheepishly. "I guess that was a lot to take in for one morning, huh?"

"No!" she said quickly. Too quickly. "No, it's fine. It's just... how'd you know I work an Art Center?" she corrected herself.

"The paper," he answered. "It has a logo on it. _Red Room Art Center_ ," he read out loud.

She nodded. "Oh, yeah." She chuckled, remembering that she kept one of her center's notepads at home. "To be honest, though, I actually _own_ it."

The way he looked at her made her feel special. He looked at her like she was the greatest woman alive. "Really?" She nodded and almost laughed when his eyes grew wide. "No way! I mean, it was one thing to know that you're allowing me to stay here... but it's amazing to realize that you also own an Art Center! I love art. Or drawing, really..." he trailed off, smiling shyly again. "Sorry for... um..."

"It's fine," she said, waving it off. She took the paper he'd been drawing on from him, studying it for a while. Then she smiled at him. "Tell you what, you're in luck. The art teacher I had in the sketching or drawing department just got fired since none of his students appreciated his methods of teaching. I've had my secretary handle looking for a replacement. It's been a hassle, since classes were cut back. Why don't you come with me to the center sometime? I could introduce you to the students, and we'll see if you'd like teaching. Who knows? In a few months time, you'd probably have enough money to live out on your own or something. Would you like that?"

He nodded. "That would be great, thanks."

"Art Center aside..." Natasha looked at him sternly. "Why don't you tell me why you were inside that thing? I realized last night when I did some research that the faded sign behind the building door was of some group called HYDRA, led by some guy called Red Skull, who you supposedly defeated. You're supposed to be dead, or something; you crashed into the ice, after all."

Steve's features darkened. "How'd you know I defeated him? I thought you didn't know much about American history. Or history in general."

Natasha noticed he ignored her last statement, and almost frowned, but managed to cover it with a smirk. "I have friends who know."

He didn't answer. She sighed, and tried to get him to hold her gaze.

"You're Captain America." It was a statement. Not a question.

He didn't look at her eyes. "No."

She snorted. "You're a terrible liar."

He sighed, and looked up at her. "What do you think of me?"

She didn't expect that. "What?"

"I said-"

"I know what you said," she cut him off. She sighed, and hoped he'd see honesty in her eyes. "I won't claim to know you. I don't trust historical records all that much. But I'll tell you this: you're a hero, and you're in my home, however I won't tell you any shit about how awesome it is to have you here because that's just stupid." She brushed off the look he gave her at her use of language. "I don't have any thoughts about you, positive or negative. But, tell you what?"

He smiled slightly. Just a small tug at the corners of his lips, his blue eyes sparkling for a brief moment. She felt accomplished. "What?"

"Spend a day with me," she replied, and smirked when she saw his shocked face. "Then I'll tell you what I think of you."

"You know Ms. Romanoff," he began, playfullness sparkling in his blue eyes (since when did she notice his eyes were blue anyway?). "Men are supposed to ask women out."

"Times change, Rogers." She stood. "Now let's go."

"We're heading out right now?" he asked, confused. "But it's still six in the morning!"

"Well, yeah," she shrugged. "I want pancakes, but you finished all the sugar," - he blushed at that - "so let's go out to Pancake House. I think it opens at six."

He nodded. "Pancake House?" He immediately redeemed himself when Natasha sent him an exasperated look. "Okay. Nevermind. I guess I'll just have to figure ot out myself. Remind me to pay you back when I have enough money, though."

"No need," she said. "Everything I buy for you from now on until you can get by on your own is on the house."

He nodded, but she knew he'd still pay her back one day anyway. Call it intuition. Or the pancakes he'd left for her the night before. "Come on, we have a long day ahead of us. I'm going to introduce you to everything modern - which, by the way, you still have to tell me the _real_ reason you aren't freaking out - and we're going to go shopping."

"Shopping?"

"Obviously, captain," she said, eyes twinkling. "You need clothes. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life wearing _that_?"

He looked down at himself. He was wearing a white undershirt tucked into the blue pants of his old uniform, held up by a belt. He blushed. "Oh yeah."

"Now come on."

...

Steve stood looking around at the men's clothing department. "Well, style hasn't changed much. There are still shirts and pants and stuff..." he trailed off, catching a glimpse of a flower power suit in the corner. "The design though..."

Natasha laughed. "Come on, Steve. Let's get you some _real_ clothes before more people come in and stare."

"Stare?"

She snorted and dragged him off to the casual wear. "Yes, _stare_. It's not everyday you see a guy wearing only a sando and pants." She smirked up at him, eyes flashing with appreciation. "Especially a guy who's _huge_ and full of muscle. You are seriously a man full of it..."

He blushed for what seemed like the millionth time that day. He'd learned earlier on that she was a tease, and she loved making him uncomfortable. He couldn't say he didn't like it though. Part of him found this side of her fun.

"Let's start with some t-shirts." Natasha hummed while thinking. "I think extra large would be safe. I don't want to waste time in the fitting room..."

She threw a couple of folded shirts at him without warning, which he wouldn't have been able to catch without his enhanced senses and reflexes. "Nice catch," she said, and continued throwing shirts at him. "Now come."

She led him over to the men's pants section of the store, where an attendant was happy to measure his waist. They got the appropriate size pants and, much to Steve's embarrassment, headed over to the underwear section. Natasha had taken all the clothes from him and instructed him to take his much needed underwear while she waited at the counter. Steve blushed, again. And he blushed even harder when he saw that the attendant there was a girl. He had trouble telling her his size...

Natasha burst out laughing when she saw him, face still beet red, walking over to the counter. She took the underwear from him and placed it on the counter (the girl behind it stared with a seductive glint in her eye) and he just blushed even harder. They eventually left the store and placed the bags in the trunk of her car before they headed back inside the mall to have lunch (Steve had already changed into a shirt and pants she'd bought for him in the car, earning Natasha another blush from the super soldier).

"So, how's your day so far?" Natasha teased as they waited for their food at the table (for two). Steve groaned.

"Why is every attendant at the _men_ 's department a woman?" he asked. Natasha laughed. Steve let out a soft chuckle, despite his embarrassment.

"I don't know," she answered with a nonchalant shrug. Their food arrived. She waited for him to take a bite. "How's the food?"

Steve looked down at his plate of macaroni and cheese. "It's good, actually." He paused for a moment, as if thinking. "We used to boil everything."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"So..." Natasha picked at her food. "Did Captain America have a love life?"

He stiffened and his face darkened. "No."

"Come on," Natasha insisted. He didn't answer. She huffed. "Nobody special though?"

He looked at her with a stern gaze. As much as she wanted to persist, she dropped the topic. "Okay, grumpy pants. So, what do you like to do for fun?"

He shrugged. "Draw?"

"Besides that."

He thought for a moment. "I'm not so sure. Before becoming a soldier, I didn't do much but draw."

"Okay."

He smiled softly at her. "So, what do you do? Do you just own the art center or what...?"

She chuckled. "I own it, but I also teach the advaced class for ballet."

His eyes shined with adoration. "A dancer, huh? That's great. So, what classes are there in your art center?"

"Just the ones I could find teachers for," Natasha said. "I'm hoping to expand it with the upcoming event I'm planning. Anyway, I've got Sam Wilson in aerial acrobatics, like the trapeze and aerial hoops. Then there's Jane Foster for painting, Bobbi Morse for sculpting. For music arts, there's Melinda May on piano, Betty Ross for violin and guitar, and Thor Odinson for winds. I'm hoping to add in ice skating soon."

"Wow," Steve praised. "It sounds like you all are busy people."

Natasha scoffed and rolled her eyes playfully. She was about to reply when her phone rang. Steve looked startled. "What on earth is that?" Steve asked when she pulled the device out of her purse.

"It's a phone. One of the new technologies nowadays," Natasha replied quickly. She answered the call. "Hello. Natasha Romanoff speaking."

Steve watched in facsination as his companion talked to someone through the device. He was impressed. He remembered how big and bulky telephones used to be. What Natasha was holding proved to be a smaller, but useful, version of that.

When the call ended, Steve immediately asked how it worked, explaining phones before were huge. Natasha only said, "I'll explain on the way. Is it alright if we meet up with my friends for a while? I'll introduce you."

Noticing his panicked look, Natasha reassured him. "I won't tell them about Captain America." She took his hand and led him out of the fast food restaurant and to the mall's parking lot. "I'm perfectly content with Steve Rogers."

At that, Steve smiled gratefully.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note** **: Hello! Steve is keeping secrets now, isn't he? And he's acting pretty** _ **normal**_ **for someone who has been stuck in a chamber for almost a century... Why do you think that is? Also, I do not own Eleanor and Park (the book). It belongs to Rainbow Rowell.**

 **And tell me what you think about this little plot twist (is it a plot twist though? I'm not so sure...) I added in the end and what you think of Tony and Pepper's reactions regarding Steve! OH, and before I forget, MINOR FLUFF ALERT. (Note: Minor. You might need to squint to see it...) :P Enjoy! x**

...

"Wow," Steve said. "So, there are different ways of communication nowadays?" Though his question was addressed to her, his focus was on the cellphone she'd let him obsereve and tinker with. He was currently playing around with the wallpaper, one of the few things she'd taught him how to do on the device.

"Yeah," Natasha replied. "There's the telephone and the cellphone. The cellphone has-"

"Skype, Viber, Facebook, Whatsapp, Instagram, and Twitter and other applications or ' _apps_ ', as you call them," Steve interrupted, continuing her sentence. "But you need internet for that?" His face scrunched up in thought. " _Wee fi_ right?"

Natasha let out a chuckle. " _Wi_ -fi Steve. Not _Wee_ fi. I thought a super soldier would be smart or something."

His face darkened for a moment, and Natasha noticed this. Immediately, she reprimanded herself for probably making him think of something bad and was about to try and cheer him up when he smiled softly at her and letting out a small "oh" as he blushed. Natasha found herself curious at his sudden change in mood. She made a mental note to observe his behavior around her and other people more closely than she'd done before.

After a moment, he asked, "So where are we going? You told me you'd show me around the city when we're done shopping."

"About that," Natasha looked at him for a moment before looking back at the road. "we're going to have to make a small delay. Is that okay? My friends called and need to meet me ASAP."

Steve nodded. "Okay..." He looked out the window, taking in all the buildings and advertisments, the people dressed in different fashion, and venders on the street. Natasha thought he was looking for something... After a while, he asked, "What's _ASAP_?"

"As soon as possible."

Steve pursed his lips. Natasha stole another glance at the guy, wondering what he might have been thinking at that moment. Then he asked, "Why do you say it like that?"

"Shortcuts," Natasha answered, not noticing the confused look on his face since she had stopped looking at him a while ago to focus on driving.

"Shortcuts? Why would you need shortcuts when you're talking?" He paused for a moment. "I didn't even _know_ you could _have_ shortcuts when it comes to talking."

"Well, like I said before, Steve," Natasha smiled softly at him, "the world changes." She barely saw his nod. She did catch it, however, and found herself lost in thought. Did he nod in acceptance, or did he do so just to be polite? He was a mystery to her. She was usuallyy great at guessing how people would act and say since she was very observant about their behavior, but this man sitting next to her was a really hard puzzle to solve.

She guessed it was because he technically came from another time. Culture had changed much since then.

After a few moments of silence between them (because Natasha was thinking and Steve was gawking at everything outside the car), Natasha adjusted herself on the seat and asked him what had been on her mind, "So... are you going to tell me why you were in that place?"

Steve frowned, and fidgeted in his seat as if he could avoid her question that way. He clenched his fists. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Natasha sensed his discomfort and dropped the subject, but the rest of the drive to their destination was spent in uncomfortable silence. Natasha inwardly cursed herself for asking such a question. She figured she was being insensitive, and while she always managed to get what she wanted (for example, right now she wanted to get the reason why Steve was acting weirdly for a guy who woke up to a new century), she told herself to wait until he was ready to tell her. It was very out of character for her, but she guessed that this guy was never going to crack till he was ready. She understood that.

They pulled up at Stark Tower, and when Steve saw the massive building his mouth dropped. "That has to be one of the most extravagant and biggest building we've come across so far. So, is your friend living or waiting for you somewhere near here?"

Natasha smirked. "My friend _owns_ the building, Steve."

He nodded slowly, taking in that fact. "Wow," he breathed. "Is your friend rich or... something?"

"Well, yeah. You could put it that way, I guess." Natasha shrugged. "He owns a well-known company. Stark Industries is the name. That right there is Stark Tower." She got out of the car and beckoned him to come out as well. "Get out, Steve."

"Yes, ma'am."

They both walked up to the front doors of the building. When they entered, the main lobby was full of business men and women, interacting with one of Tony's (or, to be more accurate, _Pepper's_ ) employees.

Steve was looking at everything and everyone, and Natasha guessed he was watching them do their business; he seemed definitely intrigued at all the hand-shaking, laughing and serious faces around him. Meanwhile, Natasha held his hand to make sure he went in the right direction and won't wander off facsinated at everything as she navigated through busy people, looking for Pepper. She really didn't want him to make a scene. She didn't want to draw any attention towards him...

"Nat!" Pepper's voice sounded somewhere from the right. Natasha sighed in relief.

"Nat?" Steve repeated, looking at Natasha. She graoned. He smiled goofily. "Hi Nat."

"Oh, ha, ha." She held his hand tighter, hoping to make him feel pain. She forgot he was a soldier (and a super one at that) for a moment and couldn't feel the hurt she tried to inflict on his hand. "Keep laughing, Rogers."

His smile went even wider. "Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha."

"Good job, soldier." Steve snickered, and (Natasha wasn't quite sure iif it was accidental or on purpose) squeezed her hand softly.

"Nat! Over here!"

Natasha looked over to the right to see Pepper and Tony waiting for her on one of the seats in the lobby. She walked over to them briskly, dragging Steve along since he was startled at the sudden change of pace. He caught up soon enough. "Hey, Shell-Head, Pep. Lots of people today, huh?"

Tony smirked. "Add one more," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. He nudged Pepper. "I think Red over here finally got a boyfriend, Pep."

Everyone's eyes brows were raised at Tony who just kept smirking when Pepper looked down and caught sight of Natasha's hand intertwined with the blonde man she brought with her. She immediately squealed. "Finally!"

"What?" both Natasha and Steve asked, still confused.

"You're holding hands, Little Red," Tony pointed out. "So when's the wedding?"

Natasha and Steve immediately let go of each other's hands, Natasha groaning and Steve blushing a deep shade of red. "He isn't my boyfriend, Tony." She glared at him. "I'll have you know I was having lunch with him-" Pepper squealed again, Natasha rolled her eyes, and Steve blushed harder, "-to _interview him_ for the job of mentoring the students for drawing and sketching for my art center."

Pepper only smiled while Tony said, "Oooh, can't wait until after the wedding to _interview him_ huh?"

Pepper swatted her fiance's arm (trying to stifle a giggle, so as not to inflate his ego and make Natasha mad her her too) while Natasha tried to pounce him. Steve held her back with one arm. Natasha kept trying to wiggle free from his grasp. Tony smiled at him. "Thanks for saving me, man."

Steve's face turned serious. "You'll respect Natasha and stop making her mad with what you're saying - _Natasha please tell me it wasn't as disrespecful as it sounded, what did he mean by 'interview him' that made you mad?_ \- and treat her nicely or I'll let her go and I'll see why you're so relieved at me holding her back."

Tony gulped while Pepper said, "I like you."

Natasha had stopped trying to escape his grasp a long time ago, his words echoing in her mind and making her smile softly. _You'll respect Natasha._ Steve blushed again when he realized he was still holding her and let her go. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. _Treat her nicely._

"It's fine, Steve." Natasha patted his arm reassuringly.

Tony exclaimed, "So your name is Steve!" as if it were some huge revelation (which it _kind of was_ ). "Steeeeveee... like that mean but kinda nice-in-the-end dude in Rowell's _Eleanor and Park_?"

Pepper swatted him again. "Tony," she warned, "Be respectful."

"It's fine," Steve said and held out his hand as if Tony hadn't made the woman beside him mad a few moments ago, "I'm Steve. Steve Rogers. And I'm not mean, like this... man in..." - he looked at Natasha helplessly while she only smirked at him - "Eleanor and _... what_?"

Nobody noticed Tony stiffen before reaching out and shaking Steve's hand slowly. "Uh, don't mind the book reference... _Steve_." Natasha was the only one who caught the slight hesitation in Tony's voice as he said her companion's name. She found it a little unnerving, but thought nothing of it. "I'm Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, philantropist, playboy- _ow!_ "

"Not anymore a playboy," Pepper cut him off, making him grunt. "I'm Pepper Potts, his fiance."

Steve smiled at them. "Congrats." He turned to Natasha. "Oh yeah, and _Nat_ , you didn't tell me we're meeting friend _s_." He tried to immitate what Tony had done earlier, which was wiggle his eyebrows. She tried not to giggle in front of Tony and Pepper. He looked adorable at that moment, but she had a reputation to uphold. Natasha Romanoff did not _giggle_ like a stupid school girl.

"It was only one friend who called, Rogers."

Pepper intervened before Steve could reply. "Come on, both of you. We're going to go up to the private floor and we'll talk about why I called Nat to come here."

She led them to the elevator, where she commanded JARVIS (Steve almost jumped at the robotic voice which sounded. But he _did_ cling onto Natasha's arm, eyes wide, making her and Pepper laugh.) to take her to her and Tony's floor while Tony commanded JARVIS to take him to his lab.

"Aren't going to join us?" Pepper asked when she heard Tony say 'the lab'.

Tony shook his head. "Sorry, Pep, gotta work on something. I'll catch you guys later." The elevator doors then opened to reveal Tony's lab and he stepped out, the doors immediately closing again and bringing the rest of its occupants to the top floor.

"JARVIS?" Tony called the moment the rest of his companions were out of sight.

"Yes, sir?"

Tony propped himself up on one of the tables in his lab. "Scan Steve Rogers quietly. You know, that man in the elevator."

"Yes, sir."

After a few moments of waiting, JARVIS's voice sounded again. "Scan of 'Steve Rogers' is finished, sir. Height-"

"Nevermind that. Does he have a profile, bank account, passport? Anything."

Silence. Tony drummed his fingers against the cold table, nervous. When the guy had introduced himself, all Tony could think about was his father. The one who'd told him about a billion times just how _great_ Captain America, a.k.a Steven Grant Rogers was superb. Amazing. Great. Excellent. The _best_.

Tony was jealous of him, yes, but that wasn't the reason why he was asking JARVIS to find any proof a 'Steve Rogers' existed in this era. No. He may have an ego the size of the planet Jupiter, but in his life there were two women who always had his back. Pepper Potts and Natasha Romanoff. Now, he'd do anything to protect them both. And for his best friend who seemed to have formed a companionship with a man who somewhat bore the same name and same _face_ as Captain America...?

Let's just say he didn't trust this guy very much.

JARVIS brought him out of his thoughts.

"None, sir. There are multiple 'Steve Rogers' around the world but none match his face. There are no signs of this man existing in this era but from 1918 to 1945."

Tony growled and immediately went back to the elevator. "Take me to where Pepper is. _Now_."

"Yes, sir."

Tony felt like the whole ride in the elevator took an eternity. He quickly put on a smile when the doors opened and he saw Pepper and Nat in the room. He tried not to scowl at Steve who sat next to the latter as all three laughed at something Natasha had said. "Hey, Pep? Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Pepper turned to him with a broad smile on her face. "Sure."

Pepper walked up to him, and he quickly pulled her as far away as possible from the couple who seemed to be eyeing them. One with curiosity and one with suspicion. Pepper noticed the grave expression on his face almost right away. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"I don't trust that guy with Nat," Tony said immediately. "I checked, he has no trace of existing in this time. The only Steve Rogers I know that looks like him..."

Pepper looked back at the guy, and turned back to Tony, eyes wide. Realization dawned on her face, and Tony finished his sentence.

"...was _him_."

Pepper covered her mouth as she looked back and forth between Steve and Nat and Tony. Emotions flickered through her eyes. Realization, shock, then to mere disbelief. "But... Tony... _how_?"

...

 **12:09 AM, Washington D.C**

"The captain is living with some girl named Natasha Romanoff. Born in Russia, November 22, 1984. Birthname: Natalia Alianovna Romanovna. No threat. She's just a ballet instructor, owning a small art center called the Red Room. Her friends Tony Stark and Pepper Potts are suspicious of 'who he really is' however, and believe him to be an imposter of Rogers or the super soldier himself."

"Hmm, so it seems."

The assassin watched with detached interest the two men before him. A man looked at the other and said, placing his words carefully, "Should I send him to eliminate her and take down Rogers for experimentation?"

"No. The last emperiments didn't work. Captain Rogers is of no use to us. We wait."

"Wait?"

"Yes. He may become a threat to us. It won't take long before he shows up on S.H.I.E.L.D's radar. We wait for the perfect moment...

"... and then we strike."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note** **: I want to thank all the people who've supported me so far with this fic and Kiss You Goodbye (Civil War one-shot). Cookies for all of you! God bless!**

 **ENJOY! x**

...

Natasha found it amusing whenever she and Steve would have an argument over little things.

It was just a little over three days since their visit to Stark Tower, and Natasha had banned Steve from the kitchen and only allowed him to make pancakes for breakfast when he wanted to. It wasn't because he was a bad cook, but it was because the food he cooked wasn't the kind of food she liked.

When he'd introduced her to the dish he claimed to have cooked with his mother when he was young, she got the impression that he wasn't joking when he told her he used to boil everything.

That was when she bluntly told him she wasn't going to allow him to cook anything other than pancakes from then on. He didn't mind, and understood why, but he still did his best to do everything else for her. He sweeped and mopped the floors, arranged the bed and couch and everything else he could until the house was neat and organized, more so than how Natasha had arranged her apartment (upon seeing the job he'd done she growled and glared at him saying, "You made my apartment _neater_. I hate you."). He had also _tried_ to do the laundry once.

It was a hilarious memory for Natasha and an embarrassing one for Steve.

Let's just say they agreed that if they were going to live together for the time being, Steve only had to wash his own clothes and not Natasha's.

Since agreeing on the laundry, they've agreed on who would cook and who would clean. However, for three days straight they've been arguing on who could use the shower first.

At the moment, it was six in the morning, the two of them had just woken up, and they were arguing over the shower. Again. This was what Natasha found incredibly amusing.

"Natasha, you technically own this place," Steve said. "You bath first."

"I'm not bathing first, Rogers," Natasha replied, her tone cool and her arms crossed. "I'm going to cook this time. I've had too many pancakes for breakfast these past few days."

"So?" Steve pushed her towards the bathroom door. "Common courtsey beats making breakfast. I can wait."

"Just take a shower first, Steve."

"Why are we even arguing about this?"

"You tell me. It's been like this for like, three days." Natasha rolled her eyes at the guy.

"Well, then why don't you take a shower first to end this stupid argument, Natasha?" Steve asked, smiling smugly at what he thought was a good retort. He forgot that Natasha always had a better one, though.

"If you're not going to take a shower before I take a shower and vice versa," Natasha raised her eyebrows suggestively at the super soldier. "Why don't we take one _together_?"

Steve gaped at her and his face turned a deep shade of red. "Nevermind. You win. I'm taking a shower first!"

He slid into the bathroom while Natasha laughed heartily, walking over to the kitchen and proudly muttering, "Black Widow still got it."

Natasha headed over to the fridge to get some eggs and bacon to cook. She also took a pack of instant noodles from her cupboard. She was just about done making the scrambled eggs when her phone rang. She quickly answered the call while keeping ehr free hand occupied with the cooking.

"Natasha Romanoff speaking."

"Nat?" Pepper's muffled voice said from the other end of the line. "Great. I was right. You're awake."

"Of course I am," Natasha answered. Pepper could almost sense the eye roll in her tone. "What's up?" Natasha placed the food on the nearby plate and carried it to the table, where another plate was set, bacon cooling off on it. She was getting ready to make the noodles while Pepper answered.

"You're still in contact with that Steve guy, aren't you?"

Natasha nearly dropped her phone as realization and anger dawned on her face. "Did you and Stark bug me? _Again_? Why the fuck would you do that!"

"Listen to me, Nat," Pepper said, trying to reason with the red head. Natasha was only half listening though, since she had ditched the noodles and had begun searching through her apartment, knowing Stark had probably sent one of his agents to install it. "You two are getting closer an-"

"Where is it, Pepper?" Natasha growled into the phone.

"Nat, I don't know what you're talki-"

"Don't you _dare_ go all ' _Nat, I don't know what you're talking about_ ' on me, Potts. Where is it!" Natasha demanded.

She heard Pepper sigh from the other side of the phone. "The camera's on the window to the right of your kitchen."

Natasha headed over to where Pepper had said it was and found the tiny black camera on the left hand corner of the window. She crushed it. "Explain."

"Okay," Pepper answered. "Tony did some research on the guy you seem to be staying with, Nat. He's got no records whatsoever, no relatives, no nothing. We only spied to see if he's a threat like what we believe him to be.

"You're getting to trusting around this guy Nat, and he seems a little shady. The only Steve Rogers that looks like him is Captain America, and he's _dead_. He died a long time ago. Promise Tony and I that you'll kick him out of your apartment."

"I won't."

"Natasha Romanoff, _please_. Don't tell me your falling for him because you guys are getting _way_ too friendly!" Pepper begged.

Natasha sighed. "I'm not falling for anybody, Pep. And we're _not_ getting _way too friendly_! This guy _needs_ my help. I'm not going to promise you or Tony anything. Besides, he'll leave my apartment once he's getting enough money from working at my art center."

"I hope you're not going to regret your decision, Nat," Pepper replied.

"I'm not. And Pepper? Don't ever bug my apartment again. That's twice now," Natasha threatened. "You're dead meat if I ever find out you're going to spy on me gain. Understood?"

"Understood, Nat."

Natasha hung up.

When Steve left the shower already dressed (he'd brought in some clothes along with his towel) he was frowning at Natasha who sat thinking at the table. "Natasha?"

Natasha's head snapped up and she gave him a forced smile. "Breakfast is ready."

Steve nodded and sat at the table. They ate in silence until Steve asked. "So, um, when can I try teaching at your center?"

Natasha smiled softly at him. "Why not today?"

He nodded, and returned her smile. "Sure."

They left for the center soon after breakfast.

...

"Good morning Ms. Romanoff, guest," Darcy greeted when she looked up from her computer to see her boss and a man stroll inside the building. "I thought you sent a notice that you weren't going to be here for at least one more day, Miss."

"Change of plans," Natasha replied, and gestured for Steve to come forward. "This here is Steve Rogers, Darcy. Why don't you notify Melinda she can finally drop the substitute job and let the students know they're finally going to have _real_ classes."

Darcy beamed. "You finally got a teacher!" She twirled around in her chair and picked up the nearby phone, calling the art classroom. "Hey, Melinda, good news! Miss R got a teacher! ... Uh huh... Yeah ... Sure." She hung up.

"Melinda's informing the students now, Miss Romanoff."

Natasha nodded and beckoned Steve to come with her. They walked in the direction Natasha was headed quietly. Halfway to their destination, they passed by the small gym, where a dark-skinned man came walking out, duffel bag on his shoulders and sweat running down his forehead. "Good morning, Widow. That a new student?"

"New teacher," Natasha replied. He let out a small huff and gave Steve a once over.

"I'm Sam. Sam Wilson," he said, holding out a hand. "I teach aerial acrobatics here. And may I say you don't look like the kind who teaches art."

Steve let out a chuckle. "And you don't seem like someone who could swing on ropes and fly through the air using rings."

Sam smirked and replied, "You'd be surprised." He looked at Natasha. "Well, nice seeing you Miss R. Have a nice day." With that, he walked away.

Natasha linked her arm with Steve's. She noticed him stiffen a little before relaxing and smiling down at her. "Seemed like you made a new friend, soldier," Natasha said, nudging his side a little with her elbow and resuming their walk.

"I think I'm going to like it here," Steve replied. They walked in silence again. Then Steve said, "Thanks, Nat."

"For what?" Natasha asked softly.

"For being good to me," he answered.

"Anyone would have done it."

"I don't think so." Natasha let out a snort at his reply. He laughed a little at her reaction. "What? It's what I think."

"I think it's because we get along well, you know?" Natasha teased. Steve exhaled and smiled upwards before glancing at the woman beside him.

"If by getting along well you mean arguing over who gets to shower first then yeah, we _do_ get along well," he said.

Natasha laughed and bumped his hip with her own. "You're definitely something, Rogers." She smiled up at him. "But we _do_ get along."

"Really?"

Her answer was to simply tighten her hold on his arm for a brief moment, just until he squeezed her arm as well. They continued the rest of their walk in well-known silence, only they were now walking arm in arm.

They finally reached the classroom, and Natasha opened the door.

Melinda was sitting at the teacher's table while the students were doodling quietly. Well, they were, until they heard the door open and saw Natasha stroll in arm in arm with a (handsome) blonde man. The students murmured amongst themselves while Natasha talked with Melinda, allowing her grip on Steve's arm to slip. Steve stood idly in front of the students he believed he was going to be teaching.

Melinda left and Natasha turned towards the people in the room. She put on a stern face, and addressed them. "Good morning, class. I'm sure you all remember me."

"Good morning Ms. Romanoff," the students replied in unision. Natasha nodded stiffly and gestured to Steve.

"This here is Steve Rogers. He will be your new teacher. He's new to this, so behave yourselves." She turned to face Steve. "Mr. Rogers, this is the advanced class. Students here have different ages, depending on when they decided to take an art class and how fast they've progressed. I hope you'll have a _fun_ time teaching them." Steve blushed a little when Natasha smirked up at him. She turned back to the students. "I'll leave Mr. Rogers to introduce himself. Thank you."

It was only when Natasha was about to walk out when he realized she was going to leave him alone to introduce himself. What was he supposed to say? He placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered her name. She only patted his hand and walked out the door, mouthing, 'you'll do fine'.

Steve sighed and smiled sheepishly at his new students. He wished he had asked Natasha for more time to prepare himself.

Finally managing to gather his inner strength he said, "Hello. So, as you know, I'm Steve Rogers, call me Mr. Rogers... Umm... Apparently I'm going to teach you how to draw and sketch and everything..."

He chuckled nervously. He let out a sigh when his students seemed to become bored. "Okay..." He tried pacing around the room. Then he sighed again. "Sorry for this awkward introduction, guys," he began. "I haven't had any experience teaching, and Nata- I mean, Ms. Romanoff had only taken one look at one of my drawings and offered me this job. I accepted, but didn't realize she was going to make me introduce myself in front of all of you _without any sort of preparation_ , so..." He smiled proudly when a few of his students chuckled. "So, you can all ask me questions, I guess, then you guys will introduce yourselves."

He smiled encouragingly at his students. "So, any questions?"

A few hands went up. He called on one.

"How long have you been drawing, sir?"

"Since I was very young," was Steve's answer. He began calling on the other hands, answering their questions ranging from how old he was to personal ones, most of which he did not answer. One question caught him off guard, though.

A girl had asked, "Sir, is Ms. Romanoff your girlfriend?"

Steve blushed, which only got him a few wolf whistles from the boys in the room to squealing from the girls.

"No, she's not," Steve stammered.

"Are you sure, sir?" the girl tried again. "You two were arm in arm when you walked in _and_ you almost called her _Natasha_ earlier... Not many people in this art center call her that."

Steve blushed again. "No, Ms. Romanoff and I aren't together. We're just good friends."

The class didn't seem to believe him. Steve opted to change the topic. He decided he wouldn't tell Natasha about anything that had transpired if she asked.

...

Steve was staying late in the art center.

Natasha had been practicing with (as Darcy had informed him) her two top students in her ballet class for the upcoming event she was planning. She was currently guiding them through the forms and the rhythm while Steve watched from the bench he occupied in the corner.

He was mesmerized by the movements of her students, and he found himself surprised when it was ten o'clock in the evening (he checked the wall clock) and Natasha ended the practice. Steve watched as Astrid and Harold packed up, changed in the seperate locker rooms and bade goodbye to their teacher while Natasha walked over to him, smiling.

"Sorry for keeping you," she said, sitting next to him on the bench.

"It's no big deal," Steve answered. "I wasn't so bored."

Natasha shrugged. "All right." She looked down at herself. She was still wearing her ballet attire, since she'd been dancing along with Astrid and Harold. "Is it alright if I change for a while?"

"No!" Steve almost shouted. Natasha looked at him in alarm. He blushed sheepishly. "I mean... sorry I... um..."

"Spit it out, Steve."

"Dance for me."

Natasha stared at him, bewildered. "What?"

Steve blushed harder. "Sorry, it must have been disrespectful... I'll just wait for you to finish changing."

Natasha shook her head and asked, "Why do you want me to dance for you?"

"Because I want to see you dance, Nat."

She leveled a playful look at him. "Since when did you start calling me Nat?"

He shrugged. "I really do want to see you dance."

Natasha stared at him for a moment. "Okay."

"Okay?" he repeated, surprised she was actually going along with it. She shrugged, stood and walked over to her laptop which was still connected to the stereo. He sat back down on the chair and watched attentively as she played the music and slipped into the dance moves.

Seeing her do it to teach Astrid and Henry was much more different than watching her do it by herself. She moved with more grace than Astrid did, and with more strength in herself than Harold could even try to have. If he was mesmerized by Harold and Astrid, he was enchanted by Natasha Romanoff.

In the middle of the sequence, Natasha had danced her way towards him and held out her hand.

"Nat -?"

She smiled as the music went on. "Trust me."

He took her hand. She pulled him up.

She guided his hands and feet to glide around her, and Steve was was surprised he could do so. Surprised she could guide him to do so. He voiced out his thoughts. She only smiled and continued to spin herself around him, not following the supposed moves anymore. She listened only to what the music told her to do, and guided Steve along the way.

She took hold of his hands and pressed her back against his chest, holding one of his hands against her chest and leaving the other outstretched with her own. The music stopped then. Steve sighed into her hair, breathless.

"You're a good dancer."

Natasha dropped his hands and turned to smile at him. "Not so bad yourself, soldier."

Steve watched her enter the locker room to change, and sat back down on the bench, closing his eyes and trying to remember what it felt like to let her guide him to dance.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note** **: Sharon is introduced here, though under her Winter Soldier alias (don't worry, Romanogers is endgame!). I made up a last name, though. We'll see why she's using that name again...**

 **Just not in this chapter. Hehe. (CLUE: She actually has a role.) (Okay, that's not a very nice clue. :P)**

 **ENJOY! x**

...

 _"Ah, he's beautiful," said the German scientist as the rest of his team pulled up the block of ice in the dead of night. "Yes, he will be very good for us. Probably better than the other one."_

 _His assistant giggled, though a shadow crossed her face. "Too bad they didn't find him first." One of the other men came up to her, asking for further instructions. "Put him in the truck. We're bringing him to A."_

 _"Yes ma'am."_

 _The scientist replied then, "Correction: Too_ good _. Though your sarcasm is evident, I'd still like to say that Agent Carter and Howard Stark are fools. They bring up the ship on the surface, but never think to look under."_

... **  
**

Natasha's most awaited event was coming, and it was only a a week away. She'd spent the last month focused on all the performing arts groups, however, that she'd completely forgotten about informing the art students that they were supposed to showcase their own self-made paintings during that said event of hers. She'd put Steve in charge of this supposed project at the last minute.

That was how he met Kate Young, a girl who managed to make him realize something without knowing it.

Two days after he'd presented Natasha's idea for the gallery she was setting up, a pretty young blonde had walked up to his desk and he recognized her as one of the top students in the class. He didn't really remember her name, though he also couldn't recall most of the student's names from time to time. He may have enhanced memory, but often times he found himself not paying attention anymore because of his memories about Peggy and the war.

He hadn't told Natasha about that. He didn't really tell her anything other than the fact that he used to be Captain America. He liked to keep it that way.

"Excuse me sir, it's Kate," the girl had said shyly, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. Steve found himself amused by her behavior and smiled at her encouragingly. Kate seemed to have gained some courage and continued, "I, um, finished a first draft of my painting. It's already colored in, and I followed all your intructions, but I'd like you to study it. I don't want to embarrass myself."

Steve nodded. "Alright. Let's see what you've done so far, then."

She showed him the canvas she'd been hiding behind her back and looked everywhere but his eyes, as if fearing a negative answer from her mentor.

Steve, on the contrary, was quite surprised. He'd only seen a few of her sketches before, along with the other top students in the class, but he hadn't expected what he was seeing at that moment.

His facial expression faltered for a moment as he examined the red, blue and white strokes across the canvas, highlighting a lone soldier standing to the side, looking at something that seemed to be beyond his reach, and beyond this painting. He saw a soul that was pained and lost, fighting for what was right, yet looking for something more. Something missing.

Kate's painting reminded him of himself.

"It's beautiful," was all he could say, and Kate blushed a deep rosy color, flattered.

"Thank you sir," she replied. "Is there anything I could improve on? Perhaps the back ground or..."

"No, no," Steve protested. He smiled at her again, but a little bit wider than before. "It's perfect. I love it. Nat-" he blushed, realizing he'd reverted back to calling his friend Natasha instead of Ms. Romanoff again, and quickly corrected himself, "-Ms. Romanoff will surely appreciate this work to be in her event."

"Really?"

"Ms. Young, most students tease my relationship with Ms. Romanoff. It is because we're very close," Steve began, "I know her well enough to know she'd love this. Or, I hope she would. She can be very unpredictable when it comes to feelings, though-" He cut himself off, noticing Kate's slight frown and confused stare, and mentally chided himself, knowing he was about to babble about Natasha to another of his students _again_. He'd done it before, and it cost him a lot of wolf whistles and he was even more embarrassed when he couldn't lie to Natasha when she asked why the nearby classroom of Janet Pym's beginners art class complained about a lot of noise. She'd made him go through hell and back just for babbling to students about her.

("I have a reputation to uphold, Steve," she'd said. He tried to bake something for her as an 'I'm-sorry' gift, but he didn't know how to work the modern oven. Natasha laughed at his efforts and ' _painted_ ' his face using the batter he mixed, much to his dismay. "I'm painting on an artist," she teased afterwards. "Oh, the irony.")

"You may, uh, go now, Ms. Young," he said, hoping she wasn't going to ask about what happened earlier. Thankfully, she didn't. "You're a talented woman. I hope to see more of your works soon."

Kate let out an excited squeal and sauntered back to her seat.

Steve let out a soft sigh and slouched back on his his chair. He couldn't help but notice his gaze hadn't left the interesting, bubbly Kate Young.

...

It was funny how even though he'd known and spent almost every hour getting to know Natasha for at least two weeks only, he found himself trusting her and confiding in her.

So, while he sat at the dinner table and she cooked for them, he'd asked, "Natasha, is it kind of weird for someone to um, _like_ someone even if they'd only had a short encounter _once_?"

Natasha looked at him weirdly before shrugging and turning back to what she'd been cooking. "Go on," she said, at the the cream sauce to her dish which was simmering in the pan, almost ready.

"Well, uh," Steve fidgeted in his seat, struggling to put what he'd been feeling into words. "There's this student in my class. She's one of the best there, actually. She asked me to review her painting for your gallery earlier today and it was... it was beautiful. Amazing, even. I feel a little lost in how I see her. From what I could tell, she's very nice, and..." He slouched and sighed as Natasha finished cooking and placed the food into a large bowl. "I don't know..."

She set the bowl down in between them and sat at her place on the table. They said grace and as Steve bit on a piece of meat Natasha smirked and said, "Seems like you're on the border of experiencing the well known case of a teacher-student relationship."

Steve only stared at her with wide eyes. Natasha laughed. "I actually have done a little research about it, since there was something going on in the center a few months back. I could explain the concept to you."

The soldier shook his head. "No thanks, Nat," he answered, looking at her thoughtfully. "I don't want to explore this though. I mean, I could only be feeling this way because of her painting. I don't know a thing about her. It might just be an infatuation."

Natasha shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat, Steve," she replied. "Why don't you offer her a small visit to a coffee shop or something? It could help you with your current dilemma. You can get to know her a little, and try to see if you want to continue to persue her or not. Easy as pie."

"Pie isn't easy, Nat," Steve said. "Neither is cake."

She stuck out her tongue. "You only hate baking because I painted on your face with cake batter."

"That wasn't painting!"

Natasha only laughed, and Steve felt comfort in it despite his grumbling.

...

"I absolutely love all your painting ideas so far," Steve commented. His class cheered. "Ms. Romanoff has convinced me to let her view them today, though, since she's the one in charge. I'm sure you all will do fine and pass her little test." A few nervous chuckles were heard by Steve.

A kknock on the door sent the class back into silence. Steve strided over to the entrance of the classroom and let Natasha in, who was sporting what he'd come to call "the General" demeanor around him and his class.

"Good morning, students," Natasha spoke, her eyes cold and calculating, her voice cool and calm.

"Good morning, Ms. Romanoff," came the tentative, unified reply.

Natasha turned to Steve, and he smiled at her only to get an unamused stare in return. Steve was used to that response whenever they weren't in private at the Red Room, and only laughed softly, gesturing to the paintings he'd helped the students hang on the wall opposite the one with windows showing the busy streets of New York. "The paintings I've told you about, Ms. Romanoff."

"Thank you, Mr. Rogers." She walked in the direction he'd pointed out to her and he followed. He commented on his students art work, and brought up mostly the beauty, the charm and/or elegance of each painting.

Natasha would never admit it to Steve, but she was only half listening to his rambling. She mostly paid more attention to the names he listed off as she studied each painting, telling her who had painted it. It had been two days since he'd spoken to her about Kate Young (she'd forced him to tell her the name) and she was curious to see if that girl's work was as amazing as Steve thought it was.

She stopped at the last piece or art on the wall and knew it was Kate's way before Steve had even said her name. She cut him off. "This is a beautiful painting," Natasha commented. It was the first thing she'd said about a painting one of the students had done. The class erupted in soft whispers, and out of the corner of Natasha's eye she saw a blonde girl in the corner blush.

She continued, "A war hero, I think. A soldier, looking for something _missing_." Steve tried not to gape at her choice of words. They were more or less the same as what he'd thought of the painting. Natasha turned and feigned scanning the students' faces. She turned to Steve. "A Kate Young, was it?" Steve nodded. "Alright, Ms. Young, identify yourself."

Kate shyly raised her hand. Natasha smiled at the girl, though most of the people in the room thought it to be sinister. Steve fought the urge to groan. He knew that smile. That was the smile of a Natasha who was planning some sort of devious plan to get what she wanted. Currently, Steve believed that what Natasha was looking for was information about the girl he'd talked to her about two days prior.

"What was your inspiration for this... _beautiful_ piece?" It wasn't an insult, Steve knew (it was a gut feeling), but Kate didn't know that. The poor girl tried to hide a frown, though her disappointment still showed.

"My uh, family has always told me stories about Captain America. I guess I always thought of him as someone who fought for what he believed in, but was lost because he died young and wasn't able to live the rest of his life," Kate answered, her voice soft and her eyes uncertain.

Both Natasha and Steve didn't expect such an answer, and the former turned to the other, judging his reaction. Steve didn't look her in the eye. She turned back to the girl and hid her growing suspicion and instead smiled. "Very touching," she said. Kate looked up at her in surprise. She looked at Steve. "Mr. Rogers, I believe I owe you an apology. I underestimated your thoughts about these students paintings."

Steve glanced at her with surprise. He never knew she thought that way. The class murmured amongst themselves. Kate's gaze was kept on her teacher, as if trying to see what his response would be.

Natasha caught his shocked look and winked. It was a gesture only Kate noticed, and she frowned. Steve understood the meaning behind Natasha's wink and tried not to roll his eyes.

"Good day to you all."

With that rather quick farewell, Natasha patted Steve's shoulder and walked out of the room. Steve turned to his students and said, "Well, that will be all for today. I told you Ms. Romanoff would be impressed." Steve smiled inwardly, realizing Natasha may have been at the classroom door longer than he thought and was listening in. She had helped him boost up his reputation among these students, knowing they would think Mr. Rogers's opinion about their work was true.

He continued, "You may all leave. I hope I'll see you all tomorrow, as we have a project to discuss."

The class packed up and left as Steve sat at the teacher's desk, watching. He noticed Kate was lingering at her seat and wondered why. Once there was no one left in the classroom but him and her, she walked up to him, Steve remembering Natasha's advice. _Why don't you offer her a small visit to a coffee shop or something?_

"Hello, uh, sir," Kate greeted shyly. "I wanted to ask you something, and I hope you don't get weirded out."

"Go ahead."

"Could you and I, um, have dinner or something sometime?" Kate asked shyly. Steve looked bewildered. "I mean it's okay if you don't want to..."

"Oh, no," Steve answered, smiling at her. "It's no problem. How about right now? We could head for some coffee." Kate beamed. "I'll have to ask for a ride though," Steve added sheepishly.

"It's no problem," Kate answered quickly. "I'll wait for you at the parking lot." She left the room with a skip in her step.

Steve quickly made his way to Natasha's ballet studio, hoping she would save the teasing he knew was about to come for later.

...

Natasha looked up from her plate of take-out cake when Steve walked into her apartment. She smirked up at him. "It's eight o'clock, Rogers. You've been gone a whole day. I was _so_ worried," she said, her last sentence taking on a sarcastic tone.

"I've been fine," was Steve's reply, and it was only at that moment that she noticed his seemingly sad posture.

"It didn't go too well?" she asked, setting her plate down on the coffee table, thus putting all of her attention on Steve. The guy tried not to look at her concerned and worried stare.

Steve only grumbled unintelligent words in response. "What happened?" Natasha persisted, getting up from her seat at the couch and walking over to him.

He growled. "I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to go to bed."

True to his words, he briskly walked over to the couch, and lay down, leaving Natasha to wonder what exactly appened that made Steve so sad and angry. Once she finished wondering why he was so down, she tried to go to sleep, though her thoughts wandered over to hatred for the girl who appeared to have broken his heart.

Steve lie awake on the couch for hours, constantly looking at Natasha's bedroom door. He knew the way he treated her was way out of line since she was genuinely concerned about him, and he really appreciated that, but he couldn't find a better way to tell her that he found out while on a small outing with Kate that his feelings for the red head was stronger than the small crush he had on the blonde.

He also couldn't find the strength to tell her he'd only spent an hour with Kate, and had spent the rest of the day retracing his steps to the Art Center then to Natasha's apartment, all the while thinking of how he could tell her he felt something more passionate than friendship towards her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note** **: I have nothing to say here, haha! I really don't know why I add these things. :P**

 **ENJOY! x**

...

Natasha woke up at six the next morning, and she quickly jumped of bed and headed out of her room, walking into the kitchen to see Steve was baking what seemed to be cake. He was sitting at the table with a timer, his focus on the pastry he put inside the oven.

"Steve?"

He turned to look at Natasha and gave her a small smile. "Good morning, Nat," he greeted. "I hope you don't mind having a cake for breakfast."

Natasha glanced at him in confusion and dragged her chair from the table to set it down next to Steve. She took a seat. "Talk," she demanded, "What's with the cake? I thought you hate baking now."

Steve blushed, and answered, "I treated you wrongly last night. I understand you were just worried," he looked down, embarrassed, "I'm sorry."

Natasha smiled softly at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's fine. So Kate wasn't the girl for you. I don't care," Steve looked at her with a small smile gracing his lips, "I understand."

"Thank you."

"So can I ask what happened?" Natasha asked after a moment of silence. Steve tensed, and Natasha feared she'd asked the question too soon. He did say the night before that he didn't want to talk about it.

"Well, um," he shifted his body into a more comfortable position and pursed his lips, as if trying to find the right words to say, "She was nice. We talked a little, and had some coffee and biscuits but... But I didn't feel anything. I mean, I liked her and all, but I also felt like there was someone else for me."

Natasha nodded. "Okay, well, I'm going to take a shower and you finish your cake." Her eyes took on a teasing glint and she continued, "Though I wish I woke up earlier."

"It's such a waste, yes, but at least you woke up after I put in the oven," Steve joked, playing along, "If I put it in a moment too late there'd be nothing left to bake and I have to take a shower again."

Natasha let out a soft chuckle. "It would have been fun to paint your face again, but I would've wasted a perfectly good, Steve Rogers style cake."

They both laughed and Natasha headed back to her room to get a fresh pair of clothes and a towel.

...

The afternoon before the Art Center's well promoted event, Natasha asked Steve to help her decorate the entrace of the building with the paintings of the advanced art class to the sketches of the beginner's class.

Steve had found it hard to step foot into the center without feeling guilty about Kate since he told her he didn't want to have anything romantic with her, so Natasha hoped her asking him to help her decorate would ease him up a bit.

"I just finished hanging the last of the paintings, Nat," Steve said, walking over to where Natasha stood looking over the gallery.

She nodded. "That's good. But..."

She walked over to a box in the corner and dragged it over to where Steve was. "We're going to have to hang these up," she continued, opening the box to reveal beautiful origami lanterns made by the Arts & Crafts students in Hank Pym's class. "I'm still trying to figure out how though, since I forgot we needed a ladder..."

"I could carry you," Steve suggested. Natasha looked at him weirdly. He shrugged. "I'm a former soldier Nat, I think I'm capable of doing that."

"Alright," she agreed, taking out a huge roll of clear tape and handing a few lanterns for Steve to hold. "Think you could do that _and_ hold these lanterns for me?"

"No problem," he answered, bending down. "Hop on."

Natasha wrapped her legs around Steve's neck and he tried to stand. This action was done with some difficulty. "You're heavy!" he complained.

"Hush," Natasha answered, patting his hair, "You're the one who suggested this."

"Yeah, yeah," Steve grumbled. Natasha laughed and began tearing out a few pieces of clear tape and sticking them to his forehead. She took a lantern form Steve's hands and held it up to the ceiling, placing the pieces of tape around it so it would stay.

"Alright, Steve, move!"

"I'm a person you know."

Natasha laughed heartily as Steve tried to look up at her, beaming. "You are my human steed! Now go and help me put up these lanterns!"

Steve feigned anger and stomped his way towards the spot Natasha had pointed at. They continued like this, occasionally laughing, often falling (since Steve had to bend down to grab another handful of lanterns), and just having a good time.

Until Kate walked in.

Natasha and Steve were laughing, the former trying to hang up the twelfth lantern and the latter trying to shake her off his shoulders playfully. "Steeeeeevveeee!" Natasha whined, swatting at the hands holding on to her legs, which were keeping them in place and supporting her on his shoulders, despite Steve seemingly trying to make her fall. "Stop it!"

"Never!" Steve exclaimed, giving the woman on his shoulders a boyish smile.

So caught up were they in their fun that they forgot they were near the entrance of the building, therefore anyone could just walk in. At the time, that "anyone" was the previously introduced Kate Young.

The girl had come to the art center in hoped to reconcile with her mentor, since she wanted to grow closer to him and hopefully change his mind about not wanting to be with her. She just didn't expect that the moment she'd walk into the building she'd find said mentor supporting the art center's owner on his shoulders, both laughing their hearts out. She felt a surge of anger and cleared her throat.

Both immediately stopped laughing and looked at Kate. One with guilt and the other with a blank look.

"K-Kate," Steve said, stuttering a little. "What are you doing here? Classes were cancelled today, remember? You're only supposed to be here only for the _morning_ seminar on tomorrow's events."

Kate would normally have been able to give a good excuse, but then she noticed Ms. Romanoff's cold and calculating stare, and found no words would escape her mouth.

"Well?" Natasha asked after moments passed and Kate did not answer. Her voice was laced with venom. "Are you going to answer? Or am I going to have to answer for you?"

"Nat?" Steve whispered, though both women caught the name. Kate cringed. Natasha only smirked at her reaction. She ignored Steve and instead focused on Kate.

"You're here because you think you can persuade Steve here that you're good enough for him," Natasha said. Steve gaped at the woman on his shoulders while Kate tried to defend herself. Natasha didn't give her the chance and instead continued, "Well, you thought wrong. Ms. Young, while I tolerate teacher-student relationships, I don't accept having a student here only because she wants to have some sort of picture perfect romance with a teacher who doesn't want her that way. So, if you have no valid reason to be here, please leave before I kick you out of my center for good."

Kate almost consented, but chose to hold her ground. "Ms. Romanoff, with all due respect, I want Mr. Rogers here to say it himself. Just because he's carrying you on his shoulders doesn't mean you two are close. In fact, _you_ might be the one trying to get into Mr. Rogers's pants." The girl knew that what she'd said had been a low blow, but she didn't want to lose to the red-head. Her pride wouldn't let her.

Natasha glared at the blonde, and Steve's features hardened. Before Natasha could say anything, however, Steve spoke. "Say that again."

Kate gulped since she didn't expect such a reaction from Steve while Natasha looked proudly down at him. When Kate did not answer, Steve repeated his earlier command, this time his voice more firm and his tone more fierce. " _Say that again_."

Kate knew she had underestimated the relationship between the artist and the ballerina. She took a step back and stuttered out, "Ms. Romanoff m-might be the one trying t-to get in your pants." The last word came out in a whisper, showing just how afraid Kate was of Steve's wrath which was showing on his face.

"You're wrong," Steve answered. "Natasha Romanoff has been the kindest woman to me in my time here, and if you're trying to degrade her into a mere _slut_ , I strongly disagree. Natasha's right," he glared at Kate, "you're looking for a picture perfect romance. If you think I'm the one, then fine. I can deal with that. But if you're stooping down into a low level just to get me, then you're objectifying me. I'm a person, _Ms. Young_. Not a thing for you to achieve. Get out of my sight."

Kate didn't need to be told twice. She left as quickly as she had come.

Steve stood in the hallway for a moment, doing nothing but glare at everything. He would have looked threatening to other people were it not for the fact that Natasha still sat on his shoulders trying her best to hide a laugh.

In the end she just couldn't hold it in anymore and ended up laughing so loud that Steve let out a few chuckles too, his bad mood lifting. "Wow, Steve," Natasha said in between giggles, "That was _awesome_. You really gave it to her."

Steve tried to shrug, but couldn't when Natasha was there. He settled for a small smile instead. "I couldn't let her insult my hero," he teased.

"Your hero, huh?" Natasha asked. Steve felt Natasha tense up.

"Well, yeah," Steve answered, trying to place his words carefully. "You are. I practically fell into your arms, I think. You saved me from that place."

She frowned. "It was an accident, Steve. I didn't mean to do it or anything. Stop calling me a hero. I'm not."

"Nat..." he whispered softly. Normally he would do something to show her she underestimated herself or something, but he figured since the girl wasn't on the ground at that moment a reassuring pat on the leg would do. "Don't do that. You let me stay at your apartment, you gave me food, helped me adjust - you did _everything_ for me. I just wish I could do the same."

 _You already have_ , she wanted to say, but decided against it and merely said, "Okay. Uhm... why don't we go back to hanging up lanterns, huh?"

Steve only laughed.

...

"Why should I help you find a dress, Nat?" Steve asked for the fifth time when Natasha dragged him into the department store. "Can't you just do it yourself?"

"Nope, I can't," Natasha replied while studying the different dresses on the floor. "I need a man's opinion, _and_ I need to find you a tux. This is my event, so you're going to have to follow my rules, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied, sighing in surrender. "I'll help you."

"Good boy."

Natasha started filtering through the dresses. "It's kinda weird though," she said after some time. Steve gave her a questioning look. "The last time I was here was with Pepper - remember her?" Steve nodded. "And at that time I _really_ didn't want to go shopping."

Steve took a step towards the exit. "Why don't we leave then?"

"Nah," Natasha took his arm and pulled him back to her, "It's more fun when the suffering is on other people."

"You're despicable."

She flashed him a smile as she took a dress from its rack. "I wouldn't be Natasha if I wasn't."

Steve rolled his eyes as Natasha walked deeper and deeper into the store, picking up dresses here and there. Steve lazily looked around, trying to look for something he could occupy himself with. Then he noticed a small glint behind a rack of dresses. He walked over to it, curious. He pushed back the other garments and spotted a gorgeous red dress, with glittering swirls and patterns, strapless and with a free flowing knee-length skirt.

He didn't say anything about the dress, and instead followed Natasha when she called him and headed over to the fitting room. She tried on the dresses and asked for his opinion. She didn't really look pretty, he said. The dress wasn't for her. So Natasha frowned and tried looking for more dresses she could wear. Steve stopped her in tracks and took the dress he'd seen earlier. "Try this one."

She scrunched up her nose and studied the dress. "It doesn't look as flattering as the other ones, Steve. It's simple." Steve smiled.

"All the more you have to try it. I promise. I think this one is for you."

"Okay," Natasha consented. "I'll try it on." She took the dress and went back into the fitting room. She went back out smiling.

"Wow," Steve breathed out. The dress complimented Natasha in so many ways. It showed off her curves and her long legs, and leaving little in the process. She looked sexy, but not exactly screaming desperate. It made her look regal, elegant and graceful. Exactly what Steve thought she was. He smirked. "Say it."

"Never."

"Come on," he teased, "just say it. Just three little words."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Fine." She walked up to him. "You're an idiot."

Steve mock pouted. "I am not!" Natasha laughed. "Those are the wrong three words by the way."

Natasha winked as she turned back to change out of the dress. "You were right."

Steve beamed proudly.

...

 **3:56 A.M, Washington D.C.**

A man clad in black slipped into the room, hidden in the shadows. He quietly walked across it, sitting at the nearest chair, and sat unmoving since that action. After a few moments of waiting, another man came in. This time through the door.

"Ah, you're here. Good, good." He walked over to the fridge to grab a cartoon of milk.

"Want some?"

The other man did not answer and simply stared with a blank look. He laughed and took a swig of milk. "Alright, then." After drinking, he placed the milk back in the fridge and took a seat opposite the other person. "We've got only one target this time: Tony Stark. Do not kill; merely injure. And send the Captain a warning, why don't you?"

The assassin nodded and left, setting out to do as he was told. Meanwhile the other man called a S.H.I.E.L.D. member with foul intentions.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note** **: MWAHAHAHAHA.**

 **Enjoy... *smirks***

 _ **And the plot thickens...**_

...

"I've done my part. Been sying on them since he was found..." the voice on the other end of the line informed. He scoffed, and he heard her sigh. "They're closer than we thought they were, and that's a problem."

"But it was not _forseen_ ," he answered. "Pierce already told me his plan; he's going to assign the Winter Soldier to attack Stark tomorrow tonight. I don't know why..."

"The girl's Russian, isn't she?"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"He's playing with his food..."

"Yeah? Well, Fury's noticing he's dilly-dallying. Think he sent some agent to keep watch on the Captain while he's monitoring Pierce. We're going to have to act soon."

"I'll throw him off track then. I think I can hack through S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Don't fail _this time_..."

" _I'm not going to fail!_ " she shrieked. He rolled his eyes. "You gotta have some faith in me, babe. I threw them off track years ago."

"But she still found him," he grumbled. "So _don't_ fail. And kick Fury's ass for me, will you, sweet-cheeks?"

"You know I can't! I'll get my _own_ ass kicked, I think. I'm better behind the screen... But I won't fail."

...

Natasha studied herself through her mirror, smiling as she felt the sequins on the skirt of the red dress Steve had picked for her the day before. She chuckled at the memory, lifting her head up and straightening her posture. She assured herself, shutting her eyes in happiness before smiling wider at her reflection. It was her big day. Her art center was going to be bigger and better - everything she wanted.

There was a soft knock on the door. "Nat?" Steve's voice came through the wood. "Nat, it's time to go. It's five pm, so umm - _get your ass out of the room?_ \- yeah... like you told me to tell you if weren't out yet... you know?" He let out a nervous laugh and Natasha snickered.

"Sure, Steve," she answered, raising her voice a little, "I'll _get my ass out_."

"That is inappropriate language, Natasha," Steve replied, his voice stern. "I don't even know why I said what you told me to say or even _how_ you got me to say that."

Natasha laughed, combing slender fingers through her hair and checking her reflection one last time. "Because you love me!"

There was no answer, and Natasha opened the door to see a slightly red Steve. "What happened to you, soldier?" Natasha asked. Steve cleared his throat and held out an arm.

He avoided the question, and instead said, "Well, ma'am, why don't we start heading towards your art center? Your show is at seven, and you have to give the opening announcement at six. We're going to be late."

She took his hand. "Relax." They walked out of the apartment and headed down to the parking lot, getting into Natasha's car.

They drove to the answer in the comforting silence they fell into whenever they wanted to be left in their own thoughts. Natasha was trying to calm herself down, pushing away the negative thoughts which threatened to invade her mind and make her feel small and unworthy of the art center.

Some of her worries may have shown on her face, because she felt a large, rough and soft hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see blue orbs filled with sincerity and genuine concern. "Hey..." his voice was soft, caring and gentle; his eyes flashed with something she couldn't recognize, "... you okay?"

"Yeah," she tried to say, but her voice cracked. Steve could feel her tense up under his touch. He squeezed her shoulder in an affectionate way, coaxing her to tell him what was bothering her. She sighed, trying to maintain her focus on the road and on letting out her emotions. "I... um..." She composed herself. "When I first started working on investing money for an art center, I thought I was going straight. I was fifteen and I..." She let out a short laugh, yet it didn't seem as cheerful as such an action would have been.

Natasha forced herself to continue. "I was fifteen, and I had big dreams. That's when I started looking up schools and courses and stuff... and now that I'm thirty-one and all, it's all going so well and umm... I guess I'm just scared I'll mess up this event, or something will go wrong." She chewed on her lip. "I have a _really_ bad feeling about this, Steve. Should I cancel?"

"Nat," Steve began, his voice firm, forcing her to listen. "Listen to me. You've worked hard for this event. You gave your all into the art center. You should be proud tonight, not worried. And if something goes wrong... let's just say I wouldn't care. I'll help you and support you through it, just like you've done for me when you found me in that chamber. Natasha, I promise you."

Natasha smiled a little. "Steve... thank you."

Silence. Steve's hand slowly left her shoulder, and Natasha suddenly felt cold. She never realized his hand was warm. Warm enough to make her whole body feel cozy, anyway. She looked at him for a moment; it was a stolen look, he didn't realized she had glanced his way. She began thinking of him for the one other reason he always crossed her mind: why he was in that chamber. Why he wasn't dead. She figured he'd been rescued, and didn't know about it because he was probably unconscious at the time, but she couldn't help but feel there was something he was hiding from her.

She looked at him again, and turned away before he would notice. "Steve."

"Hmm?"

She exhaled, realizing she'd said his name only then. "I, was um, wondering."

He sent her a confused look. "About what?"

She sighed. "Nothing. Your name slipped out, sorry."

He nodded. "Okay." He looked away. "Okay..." he repeated.

Natasha's grip on the wheel tightened, and she was glad when the art center came into view. She drove her car into the parking lot as she asked, "Steve, what time is it?"

He checked the second hand watch she had given him a few days back. "Five forty-five, Nat. You've got fifteen minutes."

"Great!" She smiled. "We've got enough time. Steve, go line up with the teachers in front. I'll head in through the back door. You introduce me."

His eyes widened. "What? Why?!" he exclaimed. "What am I even supposed to _say_ , Nat?"

"Just tell people something like, ' _please welcome the amazing, strkingly beautiful, and talented owner of this Art Center... Natasha Romanoff!_ ' or something," Natasha replied, adding in a nonchalant shrug at the end of the last sentence. "You'll do fine."

Steve only grumbled while the got out of the car and headed their seperate ways. Natasha quickly slipped in through the back door and headed towards the gym to see that her students were already there, admiring the work done by the other teachers the day before. They'd turned the gym into a dance floor with a stage to the side. Tables lined the sides and students occupied them. There was loud chattering before the red-head entered, but when she came into view the students immediately started greeting her.

"Alright, guys!" Natasha announced as she headed up to the stage. She faced the people who learn in her art center. "Tonight, we'll enjoy the party, the food-" everyone laughed, "-and the performances. Most importantly, you must enjoy yourselves. This is a night of fun, where you get to see your works being showcased and adored by many. So mingle, jingle, and dance the night away!"

The students cheered. Natasha quickly ran to the entrance, where she was ushered into the stage by the teachers while Steve introduced her. She immediately put on a smile as the parents and the invited guests clapped when she walked in front and next to Steve.

"Good evening parents and guests!" she greeted. "Tonight you will see just how spectacular my students are. You'll see their passion and their talents embedded into paintings, crafts, instruments and live performances. So, with that in mind-" she stepped aside and the assigned teachers opend the doors into the entrance which was enhanced by the gallery, "welcome to my art center! _The Red Room!_ "

A round of applause, and Natasha led the guests in. Steve walked right next to her. She held out a hand. He took it. "Nice intro by the way," Natasha teased.

Steve mock pouted. "I thought it was very good."

She nudged his side. "I wouldn't say _very_ good, soldier," Natasha countered.

"Then what would you say it was?"

"Fine."

Steve feigned being offended. "What? _Fine_? That's all you could say about my clearly _very good_ introduction?"

Natasha smirked. "Yes."

Steve groaned. "God, woman, why?"

They burst out in laughter as they walked, earning a few people's attention. They didn't notice, and instead kept on heading to the gym, where they sat on one table. They were having a small conversation when Pepper and Tony came into view. Natasha and Steve waved them over.

"Hey Nat," Pepper greeted and hesitated a little before continuing, "Hey... Steve..."

Tony only pursed his lips. Natasha glared at both of them. Steve was happily greeting them in return, oblivious to the couple's unease.

"So how are the wedding plans coming along?" Natasha asked, attempting to strike a conversation with her two friends, who sat opposite them.

(Back when they were called to the Stark Tower, Pepper had informed them Tony was finally acting on his engagement to her, and they wanted Natasha to be the maid of honor.)

"Oh, they're going along fine," Pepper managed to say while adjusting her seat so she was just a little bit closer to Tony. The guy responded to her small gesture and placed an arm around her shoulders. Natasha rolled her eyes and gushed, which was a funny reaction and Steve looked at her like she was a cute little kitten. She glared while Pepper cleared her throat and continued, "We've already set a date, and a church."

"That's great," Steve said, adding in his thoughts and unknowingly joining a conversation two out of three didn't want him to be in. "Congratulations. I know I've already said it, but still."

Pepper and Tony only gave him false smiles, those of which Steve noticed, but wasn't able to wonder why because an old couple had walked over to their table.

"Excuse me, sir?" the man asked, his hair black with gray streaks, his wife's hair the same only in a bun. They were obviously parents. "Are you Mr. Rogers, the teacher of my son, Kaden? Kaden Everglot?"

"Ah, Kaden," Steve replied, his eyes flashing with what seemed to be recollection and pride. "He's one of my best students."

"May we speak with you in private, for a moment then, sir?" the man asked.

"If it's alright with your pretty girlfriend and friends, of course," the wife added, taking note of Natasha, Pepper and Tony who sat at the table too. Natasha pursed her lips, Pepper and Tony glowered, Steve blushed a bright red.

"Um," Steve spoke slowly, "We may speak in private, yes... Nat? Tony, Pepper? If you would excuse me?"

"Sure, Steve." Natasha gave him an encouraging smile, and watched as the old couple took him away and headed in the direction of the gallery. Her smile instantly disappeared the moment Steve was out of sight. She turned to Pepper and Tony. "WIll you guys _quit it_?"

"Quit what?" Tony snapped, and let out a small ' _oof!_ ' when Pepper elbowed him. She sighed and looked Natasha in the eye.

"Come on, Nat," Pepper stated, "You knkow we don't trust him."

Natasha growled, her features darkening. "I understand," she answered through gritted teeth, "But will you at least _treat_ him like a normal person? Isn't it enough that he has _my_ trust?"

In the background Sam Wilson was announcing that the guests had better settle down and come back to the gym; the show was about to begin. This left Pepper and Tony no room to respond. Natasha stood. "I have to go. I hope you at least tolerate Steve when he comes back and I'm not here."

She turned and walked away.

...

His gun was loaded with only one bullet, and it was hidden under his black, formal jacket. He moved through the crowd as the show was ending, the ballerinas twirling on stage being the last performance. His hand felt for the remote in his pocket while his mind reviewed everything he'd done that night, making sure he missed nothing.

He left the crowd and headed for the corner of the stage, very near to Tony Stark's table. He made sure he was in position and the Russian girl was on stage before pulling out the remote and pressing the button attached to it.

He stood still as the pieces dynamite he'd planted at the back of the building caused a huge explosion. Screams filled the air, the smell of blood mixing with the smoke filling the air due to the fire. He heard the call for "Natasha" louder than the screams. He took his gun and fired while Tony Stark was paralyzed with fear, trying to bring his fiance out of the building. Pepper Potts let out an anguished cry as Tony fell, bringing her down with him. Steve noticed this and looked torn between heading for the stage or helping Tony, but headed for the the latter instead.

He made his way to the stage, where Natasha Romanoff and a girl was trying to help up a boy who had somehow fallen unconscious by the impact of the explosion. He walked up to them.

"Thank the stars!" the girl said, relieved, while Romanoff stared at him. "Please, help..."

He threw the girl back, knocking her out. Natasha let out an alarmed gasp and threw a punch at him. He glared at her, not expecting such a reply. She raised her hand up to punch him again, but he caught her wrists and held her against him.

Natasha tensed when she felt his breath on her neck, slowly moving up to her ear. Like he was teasing her. Making her feel weak. She struggled against his hold. He tightened it.

He whispered.

He knocked her out.

He disappeared.

...

Natasha Romanoff sat up as soon as she woke up. Her breaths were ragged, she was sweating, and she felt a quickly placed comforting hand on her shoulder. She realized she was in a hospital room, and that Steve was beside her. Before he could say anything, however, Natasha spoke.

Her voice was so weak and small. Her tone was scared and shaking. Steve had never seen her so... vulnerable. Emotional. _Afraid_.

" _You will watch your Captain die._ "


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note** **: OH MY SHIZNITS TEN WRITTEN CHAPTERS WITH OVER 23, 000 WORDS, 20+ REVIEWS, FAVORITES, AND FOLLOWS ALL IN THE COURSE OF AN ESTIMATED** **ONE MONTH** **.**

 **You all have made my life so much brighter! I've enjoyed writing for you guys so far, and this story is yet to reach its climax! Ooh, I'm so excited to continue to write this and finish it. I thank you all so much!**

 **ENJOY! x**

...

" _You will watch your Captain die._ "

Steve's hold on Natasha's shoulder tightened. "Natasha? Nat? What do you mean?" he asked, evidently worried. Her breathing slowed a little, and she calmed down. She still closed her eyes like she was afraid, though. Steve released his hold on her and used his hand to lift her face, making her eyes open; he stared intently into the green, and softly uttered her name.

She let him pull her close. She buried her face into his warm chest, him letting out soft cooes of comfort. "It's okay... It's okay..."

She finally pulled herself free from his embrace, but she couldn't say she wanted to. She felt safe in his arms, and though she couldn't explain why, his very hold on her made her feel loved. "I... Steve I..." she began to say, hesitating a little. She recalled her last memory, and it was a very dark one, she could still feel the hit she'd endured, the whisper. The man's words resonated throughout her mind. One word registering in her brain. _Captain_. She continued. "Something wrong happened. I think it's got something to do with _you_."

Steve's brow creased. "Are you saying it's my fault the gym exploded?"

"No." Natasha gave him an exasperated look. Steve pursed his lips. "I'm saying someone's coming after you. And they know about _me_." She paused. Then sighed. "There was this guy, he... he um... knocked me out. But before that he whispered to me. In Russian." Her eyes widened. _In Russian!_ she thought, shocked at the revelation which occured in her thoughts. She grew angry, her foul memories of Russia coming up to the surface when they were buried so deeply before.

"He knows I'm Russian, Steve! _He fucking knows!_ " she cried out. Steve was taken aback by her sudden outburst. He tried to say her her name, tried to calm her down, but she cut him off, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "I made sure to erase my background when I came to the States. I made sure _everything_ about _Natalia Alianovna Romanova_ was erased. Made sure there was nothing left of her; made sure my new identity didn't have _anything_ to do with her. Because I never wanted to go back to that place. I was so happy here, when I was away from there..." Natasha choked. "But they know..." This sentence came out in a whisper.

"Nat, please, I didn't mean for this to happen!" Steve begged. "When you saved me I didn't know it was at a cost..." He bowed his head. "I'm so _sorry_..."

"No, no you're right," Natasha said, her voice still rough and angry. "I overreacted... I guess..."

Steve bit his lip. "But... You're still mad."

"Of _course_ I'm still mad!" Natsha snapped. "My art center _blew up_ , Steve! For all I know, _everyone died!_ "

Steve shut his eyes and buried his head in his hands. He mumbled something unintelligent. Natasha noticed this and tried to swipe his hands away, saying, "What is it?"

Steve mumbled again.

" _What is it?_ "

"It's Tony..."

Those two words were enough to make Natasha jump out of the hospital bed, causing a cry of alarm from Steve. She immediately asked where Tony was and what had happened to him. Steve led the way, not answering her question. Natasha was curious and at the same time her anger grew, since Steve wasn't giving her any more information, and so she had pushed aside a nurse when the woman came in, surprised to see the patient out of bed.

"Did you really have to do that, Nat?" Steve asked while he walked briskly to Tony's room.

"Shut up and walk faster, Steve," she said. "Now, what happened to Tony?" she asked again.

Steve sighed. He reached for her hand. She pulled it back. He sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "He was shot. I tried to help but Pep -"

"He was _what_?!" Natasha screeched, earning looks from the passing medical staff and visitors. Luckily Natasha wasn't put into a hospital gown. They would have stared longer, and would have tried to stop them. "Walk faster!"

Steve did as he was told, and finally came upon Tony's hospital room. Natasha shoved him to the side and opened the door to see Tony lying on the hospital bed, with Pepper crying next to him. "Oh my god..."

Pepper looked up and smiled sadly when she saw Natasha, but her smile disappeared as soon as she noticed who stood behind her. "Natasha, why'd you bring him here?" Pepper asked harshly. Steve took a few steps forward as Natasha closed the door. Pepper stood. "Answer me."

Steve shifted. "Look, Pe -"

" _I asked Natasha you stupid oaf!_ " Pepper yelled, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. Natasha only stared with a blank look.

Pepper rushed towards Steve and held him against the door. He did not groan. She slapped him. "It's your fault!" She slapped him again. Natasha held her breath. "We knew you were bad news!" Another slap. "Everything was perfect until you came in and brought a fucking gun shot with you, Steve Rogers!" Another slap. Natasha cringed. Steve did nothing. Natasha noticed this. She flinched, and took a step forward. "Or should I say _Captain America_?" Another slap. Natasha bit her lip. "You're supposed to be dead!" Slap. " _Why are you here?!_ " Pepper raised her hand again, but Natasha caught it.

"Pepper, stop this," she warned, her voice low and threatening. "That's enough."

Steve did nothing. His eyes were still shut tight, as if he were reliving every slap. Natasha felt her anger melt away, but only just a little. "Steve. Explain. Why?"

Steve sighed.

Silence.

Natasha and Pepper waited, one with patience, one with rage, yet both filled with the want for answers.

Then...

Steve began. "Back in 1945, I crashed the plane. You all know that." Both girls nodded. "But I wasn't found by the right people. Let's just say that HYDRA, the group I died trying to stop, found me in 1963. Zola, a German scientist who worked with my enemy, Red Skull, had me kept in some sort of chamber, which preserved me. I woke up from time to time, but it was only because they needed me. They experimented on me. Took blood samples, tested my limits. They were trying to recreate the serum which turned me into... well, a super soldier. They never perfected it though. But they were able to make soldiers who were close enough. They still wanted better anyway. They tried cutting me open once to... to you know..." Steve paused, tears clouding his eyes. Natasha placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Pepper's features softened.

"Sometime in the year 1975, I managed to escape. I got out, sweaty and tired and drained of so much energy, only to find out I was years in the future. I tried to call for help. HYDRA managed to find me first. I fought hard, I really did. But I was so weak at the time. I already fought through the experiments and all their guards by myself. I lasted only a few days before they brought me back. They decided it was too risky to bring me out again, but they didn't want to kill me either, because they thought they could extract the formula of the serum from me someday. So they put me back in.

"Now, I don't know anything that happened after. Because right after I was captured and put back into the chamber..." Steve stared at Natasha, something flashing through his blue eyes. Natasha couldn't tell what he was thinking, or feeling, but her breath got caught in her throat. "... I woke up to find _her_."

Pepper's eyes widened. She looked from Natasha to Steve and back again. A hand went over her mouth. "Oh my..." Pepper said. The wheels in her brain turned, and she assumed. " _The errand!_ "

Natasha nodded, swallowing. "Exactly."

Pepper cried again. "I'm sorry... sorry... but... _Tony!_ " She went back to her fiance's bed side. She cried a little before saying, "They want you back, Steve. You... you must leave all of us alone! You got the Art Center blown, you got Tony shot... Natasha had been knocked out cold for hours for Christ's sake!" Pepper glared at him and he hung his head, ashamed. Natasha's face darkened. "Nat, _leave him!_ You could lose _everything!_ "

Natasha thought it over. She had grown close with Steve over time, yes, but Pepper had been her friend for so long. She couldn't make a decision. And finally, finally, when she did, she walked over to Pepper, who held Tony's hand tightly in her own. She placed a hand on Pepper's shoulder. This action was misinterpreted. Steve thought Natasha had taken Pepper's side, and he didn't blame her. He had no reason to. He turned to leave. Only Pepper noticed this and she smiled. Both people were taken aback though, when Natasha spoke.

"I'm sorry, Pepper."

The strawberry-blonde woman did a double take, Steve almost falling over. " _What?_ " Both exclaimed, two pairs of eyes staring at her with disbelief. Natasha shrugged, a gesture which felt out of place and just a little bit offensive given the situation the three were in.

"I'm sorry," Natasha repeated her apology. Her hand left Pepper's shoulder. "But I think we are all overreacting. Especially _you_ , Pepper. I know that you're upset that Tony's been shot. But making Steve leave isn't the answer." Natasha turned to Steve, her eyes pleading with him, telling him to stay. The corners of Steve's lips turned upward just a little. She turned back to Pepper. "The people who've got Steve on their list of targets has no doubt penned us down too. You can keep Tony safe, Pep, but I'm not going to leave him to fight those people alone."

Pepper nodded. "I understand." She smiled softly at Natasha. "You really care for him, don't you?" Natasha returned her smile and nodded. Steve blushed at this. "Okay," Pepper agreed. "I don't like this, but... okay. Do whatever you have to do. Just... stay alive..."

Pepper and Natasha hugged. "I will," Natasha whispered.

Natasha pulled away first and headed for Steve. The guy opened his mouth to say something, but before he could Pepper called him. He slowly looked her in the eye. "Keep Nat safe, or I'll do more than just slap you," Pepper threatened. "I still don't trust you _completely_."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Come on Steve," Natasha beckoned as she opened the door and headed out of the hospital room. Steve hurried after her, but while the door remained open, and in the few moments it took to go outside, Pepper added, "And thank you." Steve and Natasha stopped walking, both looking back at Pepper with confusion. She smiled softly. "For helping get Tony out in time."

The corner's of Natasha's lips turned up slightly and she continued to walk. Steve smiled brightly at Pepper, as if assuring her it was no problem at all, and that he genuinely wanted to help, before closing the door softly.

He raced to catch up with Natasha. When he did, he said, "Natasha, you don't have to do this."

"I know," Natasha replied. "But I want to. Now, where's the car? The car _is_ here, right?"

Steve took hold of her shoulder, turning her around to face him. He faced her with a serious and worried look in his eyes. "Nat, please. You don't have to do this. You're risking your life for me. I don't... I want to keep you safe!"

"I know the risks I'm taking Rogers," Natasha replied, her voice taking on a harsh tone. "Besides, what am I going to do? All I'm doing is keeping you safe in my home."

"That's the point, Nat! You might get hurt!"

"If it means you're safe, so be it."

"I can take care of myself. You don't have to _do this_."

Natasha sighed. It seemed like such a huge leap from arguements about taking a shower to that. "Steve. This is stupid. I still have an art center to take care of. Where are my stuff?"

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "They're in the parking lot."

"Great. Let's go."

"You _really_ won't back down from this."

"Of course not. Lead the way."

Steve began walking. "You're the most stubborn person I've ever met."

"Glad to hear it."

...

"Darcy, please..."

Natasha sighed, settling herself on the couch while Steve stood somewhere in front of her, watching her. Natasha had woken up in the hospital room around four o'clock in the morning the day after the art center's event, and it was now six o'clock. She managed to get a hold of her secretary, Darcy Lewis, who she was glad to learn received no serious injury. The same couldn't be said about most of the guests, though.

"Alright, Miss..." Darcy replied softly from the other end of the line. "Around seventeen guests killed. Four students gone. Thirty-one injured. Two missing." Darcy's voice cracked, her throat seeming to grow thicker and thicker due to sobs as she continued to say the casualties of the explosion.

"Oh my god..."

Natasha stifled a cry. So many people hurt and killed just because of her event. Granted, it wasn't her fault, but it happened at her art center, and in her head she felt guilty.

"The police are investigating right now ma'am. In fact, I'm here, at the art center," Darcy informed. "They discovered that someone planted a bomb. They're trying to find who. There are also people from S.H.I.E.L.D. I talked to Agent Phil Coulson earlier. They think the explosion was caused by one of the members in their Wanted List. They still can't figure out why they attacked an _art center_ , though. They say it's odd. But no family blames you, Miss." Darcy paused for a while. "Luckily," she added.

"Okay, Darcy..." Natasha answered, struggling to process all the information given to her. Then she said, "I'll come over."

"I'll wait, Miss," Darcy replied, then hung up.

Natasha stood. "Come one, Steve. We're heading for the art center."

Steve was by her side in an instant. "Are you sure you want to go, Nat? You're emotionally compromised."

"I'm sure." Natasha took a deep breath and composed herself. "Come on..."

...

Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D would have recognized Steve Rogers a.k.a Captain America in a heartbeat. If he did, the upcoming events would have been avoided.

However, just as the S.H.I.E.L.D vehicle pulled away and he headed back to the Triskelion, Natasha's car pulled up.

 _If only._


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note** **: One word: SHIZ.**

 **;)**

 **Enjoy! x**

...

 _"Be careful with that flight, hmm?"_

 _"Of course, love. Always," he replied, grinning cheekily at her. "I'm the greatest pilot this world has ever seen."_

 _She rolled her eyes. "I know. Now shut up and kiss me."_

 _He did as he was told, and sooner than she expected he was letting go and giving her a full smile. Teeth and all. He headed over to the runway, where his plane was waiting for the first test drive. She watched as he prepared himself, and smiled when he waved and grinned at her right before putting his helmet on and slipping into the plane._

 _If only she knew it would be the last time she'd ever see him smile._

...

"Miss Romanoff!" Darcy exclaimed as soon as she saw Natasha's car parking at the other side of the sidewalk. Most of the black car had been hidden from view by the police cars and a few ambulances which lined up the block, but she still knew her boss had just parked anyway. She walked briskly over to the car, immediately hugging the red head. "Thank goodness you're alright!"

Natasha hugged her back and surveyed the damage while Darcy hugged her tightly, her expression faltering a little. Natasha let go, saying, "What happened, exactly? I want to know everything. Not just what you told me."

"But... well, it's like I told you, Miss," Darcy said softly, "The police have suspicions that someone planted a few bombs at the back of the gym. They've contacted S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Phil Coulson was just here, actually. He told me they have a suspect, but they aren't so sure since they seemed unlikely to attack an art center. I had a feeling he wasn't telling me everything, though. So I did some snooping around. Managed to hear him talk to his boss or something... said the ' _agent_ ' hadn't been able to ' _stop it_ ' but was able to escape. I think something big is going on here, Miss Romanoff. Apparently, S.H.I.E.L.D's been monitoring the center for a while... what with the 'agent' thing going on and stuff."

"Exactly," Natasha agreed. "The government can't be trusted to tell us everything... What do you know about their suspect?"

"Well, they have two." Darcy sighed. "But they wouldn't even give me a name or a profile. Top secret, Agent Coulson said." She snorted. "Confidential my arse."

Natasha huffed, then her face darkened. She gestures to the vehicles in front of them. "There are still ambulances?"

"They're hoping to find the missing people I told you about," Darcy informed. "So far, no luck. Police are still investigating, clean-up will come later. They found the bombs too."

"Who're missing?"

Darcy pursed her lips, as if trying to recall something. "I only remember one... Kate Young." Natasha's eyes widened, but Darcy didn't notice it and continued talking. "Her parents are going _crazy_ , but the same can be said for the other guests too. They're all on edge." Darcy shut her eyes and a few tears slipped. Natasha frowned. "Gosh I'm just glad to be alive..."

"Me too, Darcy..." Natasha placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Darcy sniffed. "I can see through that facade, Miss. I've worked for you for so long..." She choked a little. "I know how much the art center means to you. I may be your secretary, Miss, but I am still also your friend."

They hugged for the second time that day. "I know, Darcy."

Darcy pulled away suddenly. "Wait, miss! I remember now... the other missing person was one of the guests. No ties with students in the art center. His name was _Alexi Shostakov_."

Natasha swallowed. "What..." Her seemingly calm expression faltered. Her tone then hardened. " _What?_ He's DEAD! He's _supposed to be dead!_ "

Darcy took a step back. "Miss...?" Natasha growled. "Oh god... is this... is this _Russia_ miss...?"

Natasha turned and held back a few tears. Her life was falling apart, all in one explosion. She lost her art center, Tony was shot, people were dead and injured, _he_ had somehow come back... and it all started with...

Natasha's jaw clenched.

"I'm going to leave," Natasha said. She quickly walked over to her car. "Will you supervise the clean-up, Darcy? I have to... think for a while."

Darcy nodded solemnly. "Of course, Miss."

Natasha quickly slipped inside her car, trying to avoid the gaze of a certain blonde. She started the car. "Nat...?" Steve spoke softly. "You okay?" She pursed her lips and began driving home. Her foot stepped hard on the gas pedal. "Nat?" Steve tried again. Natasha glared, and drove faster. "Natasha!" Faster. "Slow down!" A truck in front of them. "Nat, _SLOW DOWN!_ " She overtook it, almost hitting another car. Steve held tightly onto his seat, eyes wide, breathing harshly through his mouth as Natsha drove ten times quicker than she usually did. They arrived at her apartment building. She got out of her car. Steve quickly followed. "What was that, Natasha?" he asked as they entered the doors.

She did not answer. Steve didn't bother asking again. But he was worried.

In the hallway, right before they reached Natasha's door, he took her by the arm and asked, "Nat, please. What's going on?"

" _You're_ going on!" Natasha cried out, and Steve was taken aback by her sudden out burst. "Ever since I found you my life's been falling apart! Tony and Pepper don't trust my judgement about you, my art center's been blown to bits, lots of people are dead and injured, Kate Young is missing, Alexi is _here_ , and... and... the whisper." Steve's jaw trembled when he noticed Natasha was crying, and his own eyes watered in response. He let her rant. He let her hit him. Over and over again until all he could feel was her hands inflicting pain on his body. She screamed and cried, and it hurt him.

She kept pounding her fists on his body until her hands grew tired, and her muscles were sore. And finally, finally, Steve opened his arms, where she fell, sobbing, into his chest. "I'm sorry..." she whispered, through heart-aching sobs. "... I'm sorry..."

Natasha felt warmth in his hold as her gently carressed her, letting out soft cooes of "shh..." and reassuring her with whispers of sweet nothings.

They stood in the hallway, Steve holding her tightly, not wanting to let go. Natasha's hands clutched at his shirt, her once loud sobs dying down to sharp inhales and relieved exhales. Both of them were shaking, and she noticed Steve was crying too when his tears rolled over the bridge of her nose. And she let him hug her tighter.

"My hero..." she whispered, reminiscent of the time when he'd told her those words in a way she would only later realize was loving. And just like they were then, they held as much meaning now.

...

 _ **Meanwhile...**_

"Sarah Miller, NYC News reporting live at the scene of an apparent car chase," said a brunette trying to keep her hair from flying wildly about as the helicopter she currently stood in maneuvered around the sky, her camera man filming both her and the streets. She righted herself, using the nearby seat to help her stand. "Suspected driver being chased is Director Nick Fury of the government intelligence source S.H.I.E.L.D. We are yet to gain more information."

Down below Nick Fury was trying his best to avoid the assholes who ruined his ride and fractured his arm. Gasping for breath, he exclaimed: "Get me out of here!"

The AI installed in his vehicle was still responding to his request when he noticed the masked man holding a weapon in his hands. It was aimed at him. He had not enough time to get out of his sight. The assassin fired. His car toppled over.

"Oh my god!" the reporter exclaimed from the sky. "Someone just shot the car! Huge wreckage... apparent murder... oh my god, oh my god."

When proper authorities came, no body could be found. And there wasn't a trace of the attacker. There was but a damaged car, and broken roads.

 **12: 47 P.M, on the same day**

"You let him escape!" He angrily slammed his hands on the table in front of him. "The news got it _live_! They have a suspected driver you incompetent ass! You had one job! _One job_ and you couldn't even do it properly!" He slapped him. "You _failed_! You _never_ fail!"

The assassin did not flinch, his expression remained devoid of emotion. But that was not the case. It never was.

He growled and turned to the men with him. "Put him in the torture chamber. _I'll_ take care of this mess. Teach him a lesson."

His screams shook the building. Sadly, it brought no attention to his pain. His cries weren't enough.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note** **: Well, I only have one word to say: FINALLY! ;)**

 **Okay, this isn't exactly ONE WORD but it's in the context of said word so... Yay! We're here, in this part of the fic, just like, three more chappies to go! :D Well, originally it was a little more, like 17 chapters, but I just combined some 'cause I want it to be fifteen. Like, a number that isn't in the middle. (*cough**cough*perfectionist*cough**cough*) With that said...**

 **ENJOY! x**

* * *

"The gym should be the focus for renewing in the next few months," Natasha said at her seat beside Steve, looking at Darcy Lewis, who sat opposite them, taking down notes.

"And did you divide the company income – not counting the savings – for the families? Let them have some money for support," Steve added. "They need it."

Darcy nodded. "I've done that. But if the money isn't enough, Miss? Sir?"

"Then make it enough, Miss Lewis," Natasha replied, her green eyes flashing determination and kindness, something Steve admired about Natasha a lot. "Through the students' tuition fees, we have more than 5, 300, 000 dollars every year, considering the fact that we have seven classes with at least forty students paying twenty thousand for a whole year. If our reconstruction of the gym takes half – not counting what we've saved and the salary for the teachers – then the money which goes to help the people who've lost someone or have an injured family member will be more than enough for everyone. Steve and I have made the calculations."

"Alright, Miss," Darcy answered. "The government espionage agency S.H.I.E.L.D. has offered to help with the reconstruction, considering one of their most wanted is suspected responsible. This is of course, with the authorization of the government, and I've already contacted the hospitals holding these people and have informed them that thirty percent of the bills will be paid by us."

"Okay."

"Have they found a lead on the missing people?" Steve continued to ask.

Darcy shook her head. "Alexi Shostakov still hasn't been found. Actually, there's no trace of him in government files. S.H.I.E.L.D. suspects him to be the bomber," she informed.

"Pfft. S.H.I.E.L.D. can't be trusted," Natasha said before she could stop herself. She cursed, and Steve and Darcy looked at her with confused looks. She sighed. "Nevermind that. Darcy, please continue..."

"Alright..." Darcy sounded unsure before continuing with a more firm tone. "Kate Young has disappeared without a trace though. S.H.I.E.L.D. can't locate her…"

"Are you sure?" Steve persisted.

"Yes."

"Have they checked everything? No clue at all?"

Natasha cringed, for whatever reason she didn't know, but she did know that she didn't like Steve asking more about Kate Young rather than the bomber. Didn't he know Alexi was someone who hurt her? _No_ … Natasha frowned. _No he didn't._

And while she wanted to keep him ignorant about her past, she wanted to find Kate and tear her face off, then burn Steve for making her feel such powerful emotions. She knew she could do it. She was more than capable.

She couldn't help it.

"There's really no lead on Miss Young, Sir." Darcy shook her head. "It's been a few days. All the rubble and debris have been cleared; they haven't found either. There are theories that Alexi, the suspected bomber, may have taken her, but her family doesn't know of _any_ Alexi. There's no connection between the two. Besides…" Darcy looked at Natasha carefully, "… S.H.I.E.L.D. checked his file. They informed me Alexi Shostakov was declared _dead_ ten years ago."

Natasha bit her lower lip, suppressing and bottling up all of her conflicting and depressing emotions, not wanting to let them see that she knew Alexi, that her unclear and blood red past involved him. She wouldn't allow it.

"Really?" Steve hummed in thought. "He must be the bomber. What do we know about him?"

"I've questioned the guards who were checking the guests last night," Darcy said. "They all claimed they didn't recognize Shostakov when I showed them the picture I asked from Agent Coulson. They claimed Shostakov was a weird guy, with features close to Miss Romanoff's. His eyes were cold, and emotionless, and he was stiff."

Steve nodded, casting Natasha a side glance when Darcy mentioned his features were cold and calculating, something which could be reflected in Natasha herself. Natasha immediately dug through her mind, looking for an old mask, and quickly put it on. Steve shrugged, and Natasha felt proud she still had her walls, and Steve continued, "Any more?"

"That's all I know, Mr. Rogers, I'm sorry," Darcy apologized, Natasha narrowed her eyes, analyzing the given information. Like she was trained to do. "S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't tell me everything."

Natasha cleared her throat. "This is a conspiracy," she declared, and both Steve and Darcy looked at her, confused and surprised. She continued, explaining, "Shostakov 'died' years ago, correct?" Her companions nodded. "And the guards claimed they didn't recognize his picture… Someone _else_ was the bomber. They used Shostakov as an alias. _'Why_ ' is unclear, but how he got in can be deduced."

"That's correct!" Steve praised, smiling at Natasha, his eyes radiating pride for the red head. Darcy only smirked, clearly surprised, but not so much, since she knew Natasha was one of the smartest people she knew. "Maybe we could contact S.H.I.E.L.D. and inform them? They _have_ suspects don't they?"

"No!" both women instantly denied. Natasha explained, "You remember what I told you, Steve. Agent Coulson didn't tell Darcy _everything_. S.H.I.E.L.D. is clearly hiding something from us; if we tell them what we know they'll notice – um," Natasha stopped herself, realizing Darcy was there. Darcy didn't know Steve was Captain America. And Darcy and Steve didn't know about _her_. Besides, she didn't trust S.H.I.E.L.D. a whole lot... "– well, they'll continue investigating themselves, and I want answers. The government can't be trusted with this. Besides, didn't you hear the news? There was a car chase two days ago. It's confirmed that the victim car belonged to" - Natasha cringed; it was a gesture only Steve noticed - "Director Nicholas J. Fury, the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. Whatever it is that's going on, it's big, and I think there's a rat in the agency."

"Natasha's right, Mr. Rogers," Darcy said, supporting her boss. "We don't know the full extent of what's happening right now. But what we can do is realize that this is _bigger_ than just a bombing of an art center."

"You girls are right," Steve consented. "Perhaps I was too quick in suggesting we inform the government."

Natasha nodded. "You were." She turned to Darcy. "But our main focus should be on the art center," Natasha said. "But I would suggest keeping our eyes and ears open to any information regarding the bombing and the suspect." She stared at both of them. "Is that clear?"

They both nodded, and Natasha smiled. "Well, then, goodbye, Darcy. It's getting late."

"Oh yeah," Darcy huffed while saying this, checking the time and snickering. "It's six now."

Steve nodded. "Go home, Darcy. And thank you, for everything. You've helped the art center a whole lot," Steve complemented.

Darcy blushed and replied, "It's really a pleasure, sir. I love working with Miss Romanoff."

"You're just saying that because I'm in the room and you're scared I'll bite your head off if you tell Steve over here _exactly_ how you feel about me," Natasha commented drily, a trace of humour behind her tone. Steve snickered.

"Oh, you caught me, Miss," Darcy replied, winking. "Working here has been the _worst_ four years of my life! I _hate_ it here. It's boring and cliché and stupid. I hate even more now that there was a bombing!" She faked a dramatic scowl and gesture, placing her hand on her forehead.

Natasha snorted. "You're a bad actress, Darcy."

Darcy only smiled. "Oh well. I'll see you, Miss!" She waved and left the room.

Natasha turned to Steve, who had watched their banter with an amused stare. "You get along well with her," he said when he noticed her gaze land on him. He smiled. "I find that attractive." He blushed a little at his words. Natasha smiled.

"Well, then, soldier," she purred, walking closer to him. She suppressed the urge to laugh out loud when Steve gulped as she pressed her hand on his upper arm, "You know what would make me attracted to _you_?"

Steve breathed in a sharp intake of breath when Natasha inched closer. His heart beat faster at her close proximity. Just a little push forward and he would be kissing her… "What?" he asked.

Steve felt almost empty when Natasha pulled away. He wanted to pull her back into his arms and kiss her like he'd wanted to when she was close, but didn't have the chance when Natasha smirked and said, "If you'd buy me dinner."

Steve felt confused. "What?" he asked, hoping for clarification from Natasha. "What do you mean, Nat?"

"I mean, Steve," she drawled out, teasing him while being annoyed at the same time, something Steve found amusing all the time, "that I want to eat out."

"Oh," Steve let out, smiling. "Alright, Nat, where do you want to go?"

She hummed a little. "Do you… want to go to that new Italian place that opened up? It's near the apartment."

Steve nodded, then blushed before asking, "Is it a date?"

Natasha was taken aback by his question. Somehow she realized all the conflicting emotions she'd felt the past few days were infatuation and attraction towards Steve, as well as trust and jealousy whenever he brought up Kate. The thought hit Natasha hard. She liked the super soldier. She couldn't believe it. But as she looked at Steve, she couldn't deny what her heart felt, and nodded timidly. "Do you want it to be?"

"Yes," Steve squeaked, causing Natasha to laugh. He blushed a little harder and cleared his throat. "I mean… _yes_ – yes, ma'am."

Natasha smiled brightly. "Then it's a date, Rogers."

"This is a nice restaurant," Steve commented as they got in. He thanked the waitress after she led them to a table, and pulled back a chair for Natasha. "Ma'am."

Natasha eyed him questionably. "You never did that when we ate out before."

Steve blushed a little, a hint of red coating his cheeks in a pleasurable way as he smiled at her. "That's because the other times we went out together weren't exactly _dates_."

Natasha smirked. "Well played, Rogers," she said. "Well played." She sat. "Thanks."

Steve nodded and sat on the seat opposite her as a waiter brought them two menus. Steve studied it. "Hmm, I've never really eaten Italian food before."

Natasha laughed. "I haven't either, Steve," she confessed. "This place is new, and I haven't really gone to Italian restaurants before. All I know is that they have good spaghetti." She paused as if thinking. "And pizza," she added. She took the menu from him and called for a waiter. "I'll order for us." Steve smiled in appreciation.

"We'll, um," Natasha eyed the menu for a bit, "The Alfredo Pizza and Spaghetti Bolognese. Do you have any desserts to recommend?"

The waiter nodded, and with an Italian accent Steve found intriguing answered Natasha politely, "Yes, ma'am. We have Gelato."

"Gelato as in ice cream?" Steve asked. Because he couldn't help it. The waiter nodded. "Chocolate, then!"

The waiter offered Natasha an amused smile before jotting down their orders. "Any drinks, ma'am? Sir?"

"Two cokes please," Natasha requested. The waiter nodded and left.

Natasha turned to Steve, a playful smile dancing on her lips. " _Chocolate_?" she asked amusedly as Steve blushed for what seemed to him the hundredth time that night. "Are serious, Steve? You never showed a love of chocolate the last times we were out…"

He shrugged. "When I was young, um… a friend and I would walk around town, a little money in our pockets. Ice cream was rare for us back then, since we were poor, but there were days when we had just enough for two cones. My friend and I would always buy the chocolate flavoured ones…" He smiled sadly and softly, and Natasha's playful expression melted away into a soft one.

"This friend of yours…" she asked slowly, "… was he or she in the army, too?"

Steve smiled a little wider. "Yeah. Yeah, he was."

She patted Steve's hand, which sat in front of him on the table. She gave him a reassuring smile. "This is the first time you've ever talked to me about your past besides… well, HYDRA. And fighting," she said. Steve sighed softly. She squeezed his hand. "I don't really know what to say, Steve, but I'm glad you told me."

Steve nodded. "Thank you, Nat."

She took her hand away just as the waiter arrived with two glasses filled with ice and coke. Natasha snickered at Steve, who slowly brought the drink up to his lips. She only smirked when Steve asked, "You know, you always order Coke for me whenever you can. It's fuzzy. And sweet. It's alright, but why does it always make me –"

Steve burped. Natasha burst out in joyous albeit a little bit mocking laughter, while Steve excused himself for being 'inappropriate'. "That's – exactly – why it's – fun to order – Coke," Natasha commented in between fits of laughter.

"Oh, ha, ha." Steve rolled his eyes. "Next time _I'm_ ordering my own drink."

Natasha's eyes sparkled with her teasing glint, and Steve, despite his situation, smiled softly as she said, "Then I'll just replace all the water in the house with Coke." She winked.

"I don't think you'd like that a lot, Nat," Steve commented drily. "I would be burping all the time you'd wish you never replaced everything in the first place. Plus, it's a waste of money."

Natasha rolled her eyes, and muttered, "Killjoy."

"Killjoy?" Steve asked. "What in the world is 'killjoy'?"

"A person who kills joy," Natasha explained. Steve nodded slowly. She snickered, snorted, and said, "Someone who sucks the fun out of everything, Steve."

"Hey!" Steve exclaimed. "I _don't_ suck the fun out of everything! Take that back!"

"Never!"

Their playful banter continued until the waiter brought in a huge plate of spaghetti. Steve eyed it, impressed. "This is the first time I've had spaghetti," he mentioned.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yup."

"Well, then, I shall feed you the amazing food called spaghetti," Natasha declared, taking the fork set on the table and taking some of the spaghetti. "Open up, Steve."

Steve shook his head. "No way, Nat, I can feed myself!"

"I know," Natasha said, shrugging. She pushed the fork forward, aiming it towards Steve's mouth. "But I want to do it."

"Why?" Steve exclaimed as well as asked as he backed away as far as he could form the fork.

"Why not?" Natasha countered. "Say, ' _aaahh_ '."

Steve shook his head, shutting his mouth firmly. "Mmm, mmm," he tried to say something through pursed lips. He tried to say what he wanted, but it was a big mistake. As soon as he opened his mouth, Natasha pushed the fork into his mouth, laughing as she withdrew the fork while Steve tried his best to swallow the spaghetti.

When he managed to swallow the food, he commented, "Well, it was good."

"I know right?" Natasha replied enthusiastically. Steve laughed and shook his head.

"Natasha Romanoff, this date is definitely the hardest to endure."

Natasha laughed again, and Steve smiled knowing she'd laughed more than once because of him that night. He hoped he would continue that feat, since she had been really depressed about her art center for the past few days. He hoped he could turn her frown upside down.

When she finished laughing, Steve smirked, eyeing the waiter coming their way, their pizza in his hands. Immediately he asked, a playful twinkle in his eyes, "Would you like to feed me again, Miss Romanoff?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note** **: Hello!** ** _Bonjour_! :P**

 **ENJOY! x (That was so random I swear...)**

* * *

"Well, I had a fun date," Natasha claimed after she paid the bill to the waiter. Steve laughed heartily at her statement, his blue eyes twinkling, his lips turned up fully into a boyish grin.

Steve stood and held out a hand. "Well, then, would you like to go home now, ma'am?"

Natasha smiled and took his outstretched hand, intertwining their fingers. Both shivered at the familiar contact as they felt the warmth of the other in the palms of their hands. They left the restaurant in comforting silence, holding hands. They got inside their car, and that's when Natasha spoke. "Thank you, Steve."

"For what?" he asked, looking at her with a soft smile. His eyes were cast under a dark shadow, but she knew there was feeling pooling around his irises; a feeling she believed had only grown with the time they spent together.

"For tonight," she answered, averting her eyes, the slightest hint of a blush starting to creep up her cheeks. For once in her life, Natasha felt free, and loved.

Steve laughed softly, and replied, "You deserved it, Nat. I had a great time with you."

Natasha didn't reply, but the light in her eyes when she started the car and began to drive home made Steve glad. Natasha was happy, and that's all he ever wanted since the bombing. Really, he thought often, that it was what he wanted her to be for the rest of her life. Happy.

When they arrived at the apartment building, Natasha had taken his hand again. She felt elated; however she couldn't tell if what she'd done was out of purpose, or need, or if it were done subconsciously. She felt the need to know he was there, at least. He squeezed it tightly.

They reached their apartment.

Steve opened the door, and led her in. Natasha turned and smiled at him, saying, "Do you want something to eat still?" Steve groaned. She was teasing his metabolism, again. She always did, since she found out he digested food easily.

"Actually, could you just heat up the spare pancakes from this morning?" Steve asked shyly. Sharing one big plate of spaghetti was romantic, and intimate, and a huge step in their relationship, and Steve treasured that, but one half of a plate and four slices of pizza just weren't enough to satisfy his stomach.

"Sure, but I'm not using the microwave. It's better if we do it on the pan…" Natasha trailed off as she placed a cooking pan on the stove and lit up the fire. She waited till it was hot enough, Steve sitting at the table watching, then headed to the fridge and brought out a plate with at least five pancakes on it. Just as she placed it beside the stove, a wave of seven men crashed through the windows, and Steve was immediately attacked with a punch to the jaw. Natasha gasped out his name, eyeing the strangers – men – whose eyes were covered by black goggles.

Natasha growled and studied the intruders carefully, before landing a harder hit to the jaw of the person who hit Steve. "That was payback," she said through gritted teeth.

Steve recovered from the weak hit easily, but stared in shock at what Natasha had done. The men were staring in shock too. The punch she'd given the poor guy was strong enough and lethal enough to knock him out cold.

He snapped out of his trance and stood, giving the man in front of him a powerful right uppercut. With that, he barrelled into the battle, trying to keep these men from hurting Natasha by leading the fight into the living room and the kitchen. She'd proved more than capable of defending herself, but he didn't want her getting hurt or worse.

Natasha noticed two men were left in the kitchen, both advancing slowly towards her. She scowled when one of the said, "Look. It's the Captain's little slut."

"She's pretty and feisty though…" the other commented.

"Maybe boss will let us have a few rounds with her."

Natasha glared at them, as they underestimated her potential, even when she's shown it to them, and they only laughed in her face. Just when one was close enough, Natasha lifted her leg forward, making a semi-circle, similar to one of the ballet positions she's taught many times. Her foot collides with one of the men's jaw, sending him reeling, while the other exclaimed, "What!"

Natasha turned to him, and smirked. "I'm a fucking Russian ballerina, you bastard."

She took hold of the handle of the pan which was still heating up on the stove, and lifted it, hitting the man's face the underside of the pan. He screamed at the heat as Natasha kept the pan on his face long enough to make him fall and let her kick him like he was a ball. She heard the sickening sound of his flesh still burning, and cringed a little, remembering old memories. She was brought out of her reverie when the one she previously kicked in the face began to get up, groaning. She kicked the other man again, and he stayed down that time, therefore she effectively knocked them both of them out.

Just as she finished kicking them, Steve rushed into the room, stopping at the doorway and looking at her, to the two men lying unconscious beneath her, another one near the table. The one she punched for punching Steve… There were a total of seven men. She knocked down three on her own.

He looked at her with awe.

"I'm alright, Steve," Natasha said, assuring him even when he didn't need assurance.

"God," he breathed out, looking at the three men again, "you're amazing."

Before Natasha could open her mouth to say a haughty reply, Steve had rushed to her and picked her up, twirling her around, the pan landing beside their feet as Natasha laughed, placing her hands on his shoulder.

Both didn't expect what happened next.

Steve kissed her. He kissed her hard, and passionately, as if he could've lost her. As if he was never going to let her go. Natasha found herself kissing him back, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her closer, and her arms around his neck, keeping his lips tightly locked on hers as emotions sparked and they found each other melting into the other's arms.

When Steve pulled away, he was blushing furiously. Natasha tried her best to smirk, but she was breathless, and she settled on a small smile, asking playfully, "Did you just kiss me?"

"I did," Steve replied, as if shocked as well, before bursting out in joyous laughter. "I kissed you…"

He kissed her again. Again and again until all they could feel was each other. Steve had backed Natasha into the kitchen counter, pulling her up until she was sitting on it, and he moaned against her lips when she wrapped her legs tightly around him. His mouth trailed kisses down her jaw and neck, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine as she whispered in Steve's ear, "You're pretty naughty for a gentleman."

"Not naughty," Steve answered against her jaw, before tasting her lips again. "Just selfish," he added against her mouth.

Someone cleared their throat.

Natasha and Steve instantly pulled apart, shocked, and found a dark-skinned man wearing an eye-patch. He was smirking. Steve didn't notice Natasha was scowling. "Good evening, Cap," he greeted. It seemed he was ignoring the earlier scene, though Steve didn't like the fact that he didn't address Natasha as well. "I'm Director Nick Fury of the espionage agency S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Aren't you the guy who disappeared a few days ago?" Natasha asked, but Steve put himself in a defensive stance, sensing the hostility in her voice.

"Smart girl," he commented drily, a sense of knowing in his dark eyes, and then he looked the captain in the eye. "Captain Rogers and Romanova," – he gestured to Natasha, and Steve eyed her confusedly – "I need you both to come with me. It's about HYDRA."

* * *

"So when are you going to explain why we're here, Fury?" Natasha asked. Her voice was cold and her eyes devoid of emotion. Steve found this demeanour of hers similar to her 'teacher/director' one, but he found it more threatening. Like she was eyeing his every move, and planning just how to manipulate him. Steve found it unnerving, mostly because it was a side of Natasha he never noticed before.

"When we get there, Romanoff," Nick replied, his voice slightly teasing, and he saw Natasha growl, as if she's heard that tone from the guy before. Steve wondered what exactly Natasha's past was (Darcy had mentioned it when he called her about what happened a few days ago. He wanted to find out exactly why Natasha broke down that day). He also tried to study the S.H.I.E.L.D. Director and his companion as they walked through the underground bunker, towards what Fury had mentioned on the ride to be the improvised conference room.

Steve looked for Natasha's hand, and softly intertwined his fingers with hers, knowing she was angry and distressed at that moment, despite her really good efforts to hide it. He squeezed her hand, and he felt her tense. He slowly, slowly, let his arm up and around her shoulders, tugging her closer to him as they walked. She relaxed in his half embrace, and he smiled a little.

They arrived at a door. Fury (Steve wanted to address him a Nick – just to be polite – but after Natasha's reaction, he decided to label him Fury) opened it, and Steve let Natasha in first, closing the door as Fury took a seat behind a small desk table. There were two chairs in front of him. Natasha and Steve sat.

Fury began, straight to the point, as always. "HYDRA didn't go down like you back in 1945, Cap," Fury stated, leaning back against his chair. His composure seemed relaxed, but his facial expression was serious.

Natasha watched silently as Steve replied, "I know. That's why I'm still here."

"Yes, well," Fury paused, "I have reason to believe that there are moles in our agency. HYDRA moles."

"What makes you say that?"

Fury sighed, exasperated, unused to the Captain's attitude. "A few years ago, back in 2011, we began a search for possible remaining HYDRA bases. Only a few selected agents, and the S.T.R.I.K.E. team were informed; it was a secret mission. In 2012, the search ended here, in New York."

"Meaning you could've found me but didn't," Steve stated.

"We were given _false_ information, Captain," Fury informed. There was a slight bark to his tone. Natasha smirked, knowing Steve had hit a sore spot in Fury's ego. "I've had the time to review that mission. One of our agents, Agent 13, had stopped the search saying nothing but HYDRA scientists, soldiers, and experiments Wanda and Pietro Maximoff were in the building. A few years later, we've got one of our agents coming to me, saying that you might've been found, Captain." Fury looked at Steve sternly. "We sent that same agent to watch over you while we verified that you _are_ Captain Rogers. We traced your whereabouts through traffic cams and the ones in your apartment building. Agent 13 was wrong."

"Well, then," Steve answered, "here I am."

"We need your help, Cap," Nick said. "As you know, you both have already been attacked twice. I would have done something about the bombing, but I was bombed myself." Natasha snorted, but Steve listened carefully. "We need you to lead a team. We're going to start what I've called the Avengers Initiative. The Maximoff twins will join you, along with agents of your own choice. You will also take the S.T.R.I.K.E. team. You're mission will be to stop HYDRA once and for all."

Fury pulled out a file from underneath the table, placing it on the desk, pushing it towards Steve. "We're going to operate on our own. First, we destroy S.H.I.E.L.D., therefore flushing out all the moles. After that fiasco, we're sending you to Siberia, where we've got a lead… on the Winter Soldier." Steve furrowed his eyebrows when Fury looked at Natasha at the last sentence.

"Why did you address that last sentence to Natasha?" Steve asked almost immediately.

Fury narrowed his one eye. "Any problems, Captain? Is the job too hard? 'Cause if you want to play the charming boyfriend, fine by me. We'll look for another soldier."

"That wasn't my question, Fury," Steve replied, his tone taking on a darker note. "While I'd love to take on both missions, I have a few personal questions I want answered _now_."

Fury laughed, while Natasha lowered her head, her green eyes darkening, her lips turned into a scowl. "How much do you know about Natasha Romanoff, Captain?" he asked. "Or, should I say Natalia Alianovna Romanova, who is a Russian Spy and the Black Widow?"

" _Former_ Black Widow," Natasha said through gritted teeth. "And who _was_ a Russian Spy. Get your tenses right."

"What?" Steve questioned, ignoring Natasha's statement, and instead looking at her with confusion. "Nat… what's he talking about?"

"Romanova over here was my number one agent. Trained her myself," Fury stated. "Ten years ago, she left, changed her name and background – created a fucking _Art Center."_ He frowned. "I have to say, Natalia, I was very disappointed."

Natasha growled and left the room. Steve quickly followed, Fury watching with an amused smile. Maria Hill entered the room. "You were eavesdropping on one of my conversations again, Agent Hill."

"Did you really have to bring that up?" Maria asked.

"Of course," Nick said. "They're too close. Romanova was like a daughter to me, you remember. I don't want her being in danger. Not again."

"She can protect herself, you know. The Winter Soldier isn't why she left," Maria said. "Besides, you saw the footage. She's disguising her fighting with her ballet. She's a master of deceit, and she's a fighter. She's more than capable of being by the Captain's side."

"I know, Hill," Nick replied, his tone getting angrier, "But this will compromise her emotionally. One of our suspects was mingling with the guests as _Alexi Shostakov._ The Winter Soldier is _here_. Her past will tear her down. It's better if she stays out of this."

Maria frowned, and as she headed to the door, she said, "I still think you're making a big mistake." Just before she closed it, she paused and said, "She left because of _you_ , you know?"

Fury turned away as she closed the door, a single tear dropping from his one good eye.

* * *

"Nat! Nat, wait!" Steve called. He ran, trying to keep himself at her pace.

"What, Steve?" Natasha asked venomously, turning to face Steve with a deadly glare.

"You were… an _agent_." He stopped right in front of her. "For him. For S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Yes, I was," Natasha spat, "Now drop the subject and leave me alone."

"Why? How?" Steve asked. "I have questions, Nat. Fury said you were his number one. He called you _Natalia Romanova_."

"I said I was Russian when we first met, didn't I?" Natasha growled.

"You told me once you were given the name _Black Widow_ in High School." He took hold of her arm. "Did you lie?"

"Let me go!"

" _Did you lie?_ "

Natasha sighed. "No, I didn't." She hesitated a little. "There was a fire," Steve's face softened when her eyes pooled with tears and her voice cracked. It was a long while before she continued. "They let me go to school, and I made a name for myself. I used that in S.H.I.E.L.D. too. I had to balance school and homework. I was a spy and a student. I didn't lie."

"But you kept your past from me," Steve said.

"Like you didn't?" Natasha asked. "I learned about your historical achievements through Tony!"

"I told you about chocolate ice cream!"

"You didn't even tell me your friend's _name_!" Natasha accused, her eyes flaring. "Just because you told some vague little memory of your childhood doesn't mean I've got to tell you about my little sob story!"

"No, but I trusted you…"

"You didn't tell about me about your past." Natasha levelled a glare on him. "I won't tell about mine."

"But you were an agent."

" _Why is that such a big deal?!_ " Natasha shouted, exasperated and tired of fighting with Steve. "Leave me alone!" She pushed him away harshly. Steve didn't expect that, and stumbled backwards. "Go the fuck away, Steve! I don't need you!"

Steve looked down at her, his heart crumbling, his eyes full of hurt. Natasha was too cooped up in her negative emotions to notice a few tears were slipping down Steve's cheeks. "Alright, then," he said, voice cracking, "I guess I'll just take off. I'll let Fury know I'm joining the Avengers."

"Fine by me," Natasha snapped harshly.

Steve sighed and turned, wiping at his wet cheeks. He walked away. "Goodbye, Natasha."

* * *

Maria Hill later found Natasha curled up into a ball in the hallway, her eyes red and her cheeks flushed. Natasha wouldn't tell her anything, but Maria brushed it off while she escorted Natasha out of the building, thinking it was because Fury brought up her past. But she was wrong.

Natasha had spent most of an hour crying. She brutally punished herself for hurting Steve, for making him cry – for everything that occurred since Fury brought up her past as the Black Widow. She knew she needed him, despite what she'd said. She was angry at herself and Fury, and depressed because Steve had left. She spent a long time hurting herself, knowing she just made the biggest mistake of her life.

Now Steve had said goodbye.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note** **: Okay, so here's the thing… I hoped to finish writing chapter 14 and 15 before school starts, but I kind of did not, so now I am really really busy (AND IT'S JUST THE SECOND WEEK OF CLASSES! I HATE YOU TEACHERS!) so updates will be late too. Rest assured this fic will be finished. I'm not giving up on it! :D**

 **This chappie is a little short, I know, but I figured it was a good way to end it, and instead of 15 chapters for this fic you'll have maybe 20 or more xD**

 **ENJOY! x**

"I will send one of my most trusted agents with you, Natasha," Fury stated as he accompanied her to the van, Steve and Maria Hill following closely, but quietly, behind. "Just so you'd be safe."

Normally Natasha would scowl and say a mean comeback concerning the fact that she could take care of herself, but she didn't feel like herself at that moment. Her eyes were still red from crying, her cheeks flushed and tainted with tears lines that haven't quite dried up yet. She wished Steve would comment about it – like an apology or if not just a sympathetic look. He didn't, and she felt even more depressed now that they were at the vehicle which was supposed to 'take her home'.

She nodded slowly and turned, wanting to look at Steve one last time. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes though – and she merely pursed her lips. He probably wasn't looking at her too.

A lot of emotions went through her as she processed the thought that he couldn't face her. She felt sad and angry, and so _disappointed_. Before she could stop herself her mouth opened, and she heard herself say, "You aren't going to say anything?"

He looked at her then.

She hadn't addressed the statement to anyone out loud, but it seemed like he could read her thoughts, and he knew it was meant for him. She wanted to give an excuse for saying it – maybe say it was meant for Fury – but with her conflicted expression and rough tone, plus her gaze on him, made it impossible to do so. Besides, he answered.

"What's left to say, Agent Romanoff?" he asked, his expression hard and his tone firm. She wondered what he was thinking. She sighed at what he'd called her. She seethed at the fact that he pretended not to know what she was talking about.

"I don't know," she replied, trying to lace her voice with calm, but anger still dominated. "Sorry?"

"Sorry?" he repeated. "Why should I apologize?"

She had no reason. She cringed, but she couldn't back down from this fight. "Why not? Aren't you supposed to be America's Golden Boy?"

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, glaring. "If anything, _you_ should be the one saying sorry!"

"Will you two just shut up?" Fury barked, instantly silencing the two individuals fighting before him. "Romanova, get in the van. Rogers, back into base – you've yet to meet the Maximoff twins. Hill, introduce them."

Natasha scoffed while Steve huffed and turned around, walking away with Maria Hill by his side, something which Natasha found she didn't like. Fury turned to her. "Didn't I tell you to get your ass inside the van, Romanova?"

"You don't get to call me that," she countered, but opened the door of the vehicle anyway.

"What going on between you and the Captain anyway?" Fury continued. "Didn't I just catch you two snogging?"  
"That was hours ago. It's now in the past," Natasha quipped, closing the door with a slam.

"You can't always run away, Natasha," Fury said softly, even though he was sure Natasha couldn't hear since she started the vehicle, and prepared to drive away. He watched as she went on her journey, and his shoulders sagged as the van became a black speck in the distance. He was too late, as he always was…

" _Sleep tight, little one,_ " he sang a soft lullaby, willing himself to fade away into his memories. His voice was rough and off-key, but he remembered how she always loved it. He continued until the van disappeared from sight. And after that.

" _Papa's here, young one. Go to sleep, the storm won't hurt you…_ I still love you…"

Natasha sighed as she parked in front of her apartment building.

Her life had been so hectic nowadays, with many problems here and there, and she had gotten so used to Steve's comfort that now she couldn't bear to walk into the very building where she spent most of her time with him.

Trying to pull herself together, Natasha got out of the van and walked into the building. When she arrived at her apartment, she locked herself in her bedroom and lay awake all night.

Steve had found mentoring the Maximoff twins in hand to hand combat a great way to take his mind off Natasha and his conflicting feelings. He busied himself with training and talking with Fury about Project Insight, which consisted of three Helicarriers modified to hold weapons and run by an algorithm which was designed to kill off threats – people who are dangerous and who will be. Fury suspected that the moles in S.H.I.E.L.D. may have tampered with the algorithm though, ever since he hired the pirates to hijack a S.H.I.E.L.D. ship, successfully distracting the S.T.R.I.K.E. team and allowing him to extract data from the ship's computers.

While he didn't like the sound of that, he was certainly glad it kept him alert and in control of his feelings.

There were a few times though, like when he was walking in the hallways of the base to his room, or when he was eating – even when he was sleeping – that he thought about the woman who'd stolen his heart one minute and broke it in the next. She really was a Black Widow, he thought sometimes, but he loved her anyway.

That was a problem.

A few days since she came back to her apartment, a knock on her door alerted her. Foolishly believing it was Steve – she didn't even know why she thought it was him – she rushed to the door, and with a smile she opened it…

… To see Sam Wilson, one of her faculty and staff, with a S.H.I.E.L.D. badge on his shirt.

"You're a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"Yup," Sam nodded. "Sent by Fury to protect you. Sorry I'm late a few days – it's hard to make a phone call when everyone knows you're dead."

She rolled her eyes. "Pack your things, Miss Romanoff. I'm escorting you to my place. In Fury's words, your location is compromised.


	15. Chapter 15

" _Your location has been compromised."_

Natasha nodded, and invited Sam in, quickly closing the door behind her and pushing past him and into her room. She wasn't quite surprised about Sam being an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. – she'd suspected it for some time – but she couldn't help but wonder if the agent in her compound who informed Fury Steve had been found was Wilson, and if so, what happened to Kate Young?

When Fury first mentioned an agent escaping the effects of the bomb, and returned to the Triskelion with bad news, her first suspect was Kate Young. It would explain why she'd seemed to be more hung up on Steve than any other student anyway. But now that she had no evidence of Kate being part of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the fact that Sam was the agent was revealed… _where is she_?

Natasha didn't dwell on these thoughts, and instead finished packing up a few essentials: clothes, personal toiletries, a few towels and other belongings. She dumped her phone though, reformatting the device and cleaning it thoroughly before taking out the SIM card and breaking it, throwing the pieces out the window.

Natasha left her room to find Sam sitting impatiently at her couch. "Packed everything you need, Miss Romanoff?" he asked, standing up with a sigh of relief.

She nodded. "Let's go, Wilson."

They headed out of her apartment, Natasha bringing up the fact that she needed a new phone. Sam nodded in understanding, and claimed that he'd be the one to buy her a new one, considering the fact that Fury had also given specific orders not to compromise Natasha's next location. While Natasha scoffed in annoyance, Sam found it a little endearing, and while he didn't know Natasha was his boss's adopted child before then, he couldn't help but wonder why Natasha was annoyed at the fact that Fury may be a tad bit overprotective.

He decided he wouldn't question it, and instead kept silent the whole ride to the safe house he and Natasha would be staying in for the next few days – weeks or months, even.

Depending on when the Captain finished his missions.

"Alright. There's been a HYDRA base spotted somewhere outside the boundaries of Sokovia. We suspect that Baron von Strucker is leading a team of scientists there, and we might have a lead on Project Insight regarding the enemies' point of view." Steve Rogers stood erectly in front of his new team. He let them absorb the information first before pointing down at the vague blueprints of the HYDRA base which lay on the table in front of him.

"Pietro, you take down the security cameras. Once you give the signal, the S.T.R.I.K.E. team will move in and take out the guards lining the back of the HYDRA base. Pietro will meet with Wanda, and both of you will go through the entrance. Hopefully the guards will be too distracted by then. Wanda, you paralyze everyone inside just like we practiced. Pietro," Steve looked at the elder twin with a pointed look, "guard Wanda. Make sure she doesn't overexert herself. Then I'll move in and look for Strucker."

"And the data, Captain?" Wanda asked.

"The S.T.R.I.K.E. team will take care of that."

Everyone in the room nodded, however the Captain noticed the lips of one of the members of the S.T.R.I.K.E. team move, and he immediately acted on that. "Any problem, soldier?" he asked, his voice taking on a stricter tone.

The man froze, before blushing sheepishly, which was a strange feat to see from a man with guns strapped to his side. "Sorry, Cap."

"It's fine. But would you care to share what was so interesting?" the Captain pressed on, a little bit intrigued. Even when they were on their second mission, the people around him were still new. Their different personalities often crashed and collided, but the fact that they remained a great team took the captain by surprise. So, it was always refreshing to know what was on their minds.

"It's just… there are rumours of Black Widow still being in operation," the soldier said carefully. The news of a red head crying in the hallways a month ago spread like wildfire and was still fresh in everyone's minds. When they tried to interrogate Agent Hill, they were forced to run laps for four hours straight – and no potty breaks.

Captain America's eyes widened, though he tried to remain composed in front of his team. He settled for a simple surprised look, however out of the corner of his eye he noticed Wanda was giving him a suspicious look, and he knew the teen just wasn't buying it.

"Oh, really?" he asked. "What makes you say so?"

The soldier shifted nervously under the Captain's gaze. With the rumour came the backstory of the Captain previously being sheltered and cared for by the same woman who supposedly was crying in the hallway. That alone generated nasty little scenarios.

"Well… a month ago Fury sent a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to look after someone. We've noticed lots of distress calls coming from Sam Wilson, a.k.a the Falcon, who is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. He wasn't being careful. Agent Hill managed to secure the lines before the actual S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ intercepted them. But _we_ managed to overhear some…" the soldier trailed off, gulping. The Captain somehow already knew where the story was heading. "… He was calling about someone going AWOL. Natasha Romanoff – the Black Widow."

"That proves nothing," the Captain tried to say.

"It actually does prove _something_ ," Wanda piped up. Everyone looked at her, and the Captain felt his body go rigid as Wanda continued. "We've been monitoring S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters for a while now, Captain Rogers. Just last night, ten-thirty-seven P.M., a S.H.I.E.L.D. vessel was attacked by Georges Batroc and his mercenaries. He was stopped by one assassin. We suspect it's the same one who gave us the data on Strucker's current whereabouts."

"Why didn't any of you _tell me_?" the Captain demanded. "Are you all trying to say we only have this information because a former agent – that _Black Widow_ herself is still in action?"

"Yes, Captain," Pietro said.

The Captain closed his eyes, trying to push away Natasha's harsh words from his mind. They left on bad terms. He never thought she'd try to help them…

"Alright. Black Widow still operating or not, we have a mission." The Captain did his best to look strong. "Now, prepare the jet. We leave for Sokovia in twenty minutes."

The S.T.R.I.K.E. team quickly moved out, though Wanda and Pietro stayed behind. "What are you guys still doing here?" the Captain asked.

"Don't try to hide it, Steve," Wanda spoke quietly. Pietro gave the Captain a salute, as if knowing what his sister meant. He probably did. "It's there, in your mind. I can feel it. Every part of you does it to find who you've lost…"

Captain America washed away and frail, weak, Brooklyn Boy Steve Rogers remained, understanding completely what Wanda meant. The twins already left the room when he said, "I know. But there's no hope. I've lost her for good…"

He was met with deafening silence.


End file.
